


The Same But Different

by geenajay



Series: The Same But Different [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Omega, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 06:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 103,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8958217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geenajay/pseuds/geenajay
Summary: While in the middle of a hunt, Dean is somehow 'swapped' with a much more timid version of himself from another dimension. How will Sam deal with this, and how will he get his real brother back?Set in no specific season, other than they are living in the Bunker. No spoilers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't forgotten Four-five: I am working on a happy ending for him. But in the meantime I have been distracted by Alpha/omega stories, and wanted to have a go at writing one. Here's what my brain came up with - hope you enjoy. As always, comments will be much appreciated.

The old stone warehouse was vast.

Once upon a time, decades before, it had been used for industry: its sloped slated roofs had overseen the hustle and bustle of many strong men, shouting, cursing and joking as they manoeuvred barrels, or perhaps steel girders, or possibly boxes of produce, all packed up and ready to be shipped.

But now it stood empty and in silence, leaving only the rats to make any sound at all. Their trails could be seen in the thick layers of dust, mostly fallen from the decaying and all-but-disintegrated upper storey that used to be small offices but now, having been reduced to their smallest atomic unit, instead covered any and all surface: the floor; forgotten and abandoned crates; used takeout boxes; the occasional used condom from the daring or the desperate; an old broom, useless now; a never emptied trashcan stinking and rotting from the inside out, the white powdery dust covered it all as if making its own internal landscape.

“Home from home!” Dean joked as he shone his flashlight around.

“Which way do you think it went?” Sam, serious as always, was already trying to pick out any tracks in the near gloom of the abandoned building: it didn’t have many windows anyway, but what there were, were all boarded up. The last radiance of the full moon outside wasn’t even coming close to filtering through.

“It can’t have got far: we were right on its tail. There!” Dean used the beam of his torch to pick out the footprints: prints with long strides between them and the dust kicked back as if something had been running very fast and away from them.

As indeed it had been.

The light from the flashlight tracked the marks in the dust, following them as they suddenly veered to one side and led to another door at one edge of the building, “Okay.” And Dean stopped and made sure the door they had entered by was properly secured. “He ain’t going out that one!” as he pulled the bolt across. ”Let’s get this sucker.”

He led the way across the dusty moon landscape, leaving rippled impressions of his own first footprints as they began to also move carefully towards the door. The older brother leant forward and carefully opened it with his left hand, the right now being full with his gun.

There was a set of steep metal steps leading down into all but total darkness. The two Hunters exchanged glances, both on full alert, and with practised ease began to make their way down: Sam covering Dean as he went first, wary of hands, or claws, reaching through the rungs to snatch at ankles, shining his torch and gun together in one single sweep at a time.

Nothing.

Soon they were both at the base of the steps, and could see they were in a large lower area. Almost a cellar, a _large_ cellar, used either for supplies of ‘goods in’ or as storage for the final products of whatever business at the time, or both, as there were deep scratches on the floor where things heavy had been pulled around on pallets often enough to make their own ruts. At the other end, and up on a large dais, they could make out the cracks of light around what was a large lifting-style warehouse door that opened up the whole area to the outside, and the rusty old harness system that had been used to manually move goods up there before the onset of forklift trucks simplified the process even further. “Any sign of its tracks?”

“Nope.” Dean’s sharp eyes were already scouring the area, looking for any sign of where the were-creature might be hiding. He swung the light above them without success. “Less dust down here. You go that way: I’ll take this.”

“Careful.”

“Yes mom!” And they were moving forward into the darkened open space, alert for any movement, any noise.

Nothing.

Between them they scouted the entire area, trying to also keep each other within view as well. The night started to recede as they searched and soon the traffic noise outside of early morning commuters began to filter through.

They realised there were other sets of steps down to this level, and a large old-fashioned, rope-all-but-frayed-through elevating device to help move heavy items between the two floors. Modern-day Health and Safety regulators would have had a fit at all of it, but it also meant that there were plenty of ways out. Then Dean sighed further as he noticed the small outer door up beside the large lifting warehouse door on the dais and hurried up the few steps at the side of the platform to get there and try the handle.

Just as the first door had originally been, it was unlocked and opened easily out onto the other side where he found himself overlooking an old paved level courtyard that led through old gates to the electric-lighted street beyond. At some point lorries, or carts in earlier times, would have been backed up to the exterior of the warehouse, the dais being the perfect height at this side’s street level, the other side from the general worker’s entrance, to allow for easy loading of heavy goods. But no longer. The main door wouldn’t have been used for years. And neither had the cellar.

“Shit! Looks like he knew where he was going!”

“Any sign?” Sam called as he also began to cross towards the raised platform.

“Nah. If he came this way then he’s long gone.” Dean was putting his gun away, tucking it into the back of his denims as was his custom. Glancing up, he could still see the waning beauty of the full moon seemingly directly above the old building as it finally began to be overthrown and hidden by the double whammy of the increasing light of dawn and of Kansas City fully coming awake.

It seemed to wink a good-natured goodbye to him and despite himself, he smiled: he had always loved watching the night sky, although given the choice he always preferred to see it from the peace and solitude of the countryside rather than a brash and glaring city. Even though somehow, it seemed larger tonight than he had ever seen it before. Dean shook his head at himself, he was getting distracted: “Let’s get back, grab something to eat, try again tonight.”

“Okay.” The younger man agreed and began to head back across the stone floor.

Dean closed the outer door and moved to follow but then something caught his attention. “What’s that on the floor beside you, Sammy? I didn’t notice it before.”

“What?” He was looking down and shining the torch around his feet. “Where?”

“Well, there!” Dean jumped down off the platform and began to cross to where Sam was standing, staring at him. “That bright blue thing, it’s _glowing_ for fuck’s sake: how can you be missing it?”

“Dean, there’s nothing there!”

“It’s small and glowing really bright light blue! What’s wrong with you, Sam?” And he was there, right beside his younger brother and bending to pick something up from within only one step away of the other’s large foot. “It’s getting even brighter! Look!”

“I can’t see it, Dean! Careful for God’s sake: we don’t know what it is….”

But the warning was given too late. Because all of a sudden Sam did see the pale but blinding blue glow. In fact it was _all_ he could suddenly see.

For, as his brother’s hand connected with whatever it was, the glow grew and expanded to become a dazzling, painfully blinding pale blue light. A light that became a blast of glowing blue-white energy.An energy that took Sam off his feet and threw him until he was connecting with the stone wall of the cellar.

And then there was nothing but blackness.

It seemed a long time before he could move again, groaning and blinking against the effects of the sudden intense brightness that had left dark spots instead of vision, calling for his brother as soon as he was able.

No answer.

It was a few minutes longer before the dark spots had cleared enough that he could even try and look around the cellar, still calling Dean’s name.

Nothing.

It took him a long few minutes to locate his flashlight and realise that it was smashed beyond repair, leaving him almost useless in the gloom that seemed now to be even darker than it had before. Hastily he stumbled over to the dais and up the steps, fumbling on the wall beyond for the release that would allow him to open the large lifting door and allow the morning light to flood as far as it could reach into the cellar.

Then it took Sam a few more minutes of desperately searching with his eyes around the still too shadowy area to finally spot the bundle lying at the base of the wall opposite.

A bundle of clothes and living flesh that was his brother.

A bundle that wasn’t moving.

“Dean? _Dean!_ ” And Sam was hurrying back down onto the main floor and staggering across to the motionless huddled figure half hidden in the gloom. He fell to his knees beside it and reached out with a panicked hand to feel for a pulse. Thank God, Dean was alive. Although his heart rate was racing beneath Sam’s touch.

And at his touch, his brother finally stirred. He started to moan, and….whimper? He must be seriously hurt to make a noise like that. Quickly Sam checked him over, pulling him onto his side, touching and testing to find any blood; any signs of broken bones; and any increasing lumps or bruises that could indicate internal bleeding.

“Sam?” Dean was coming round and trying to move, beginning to sit up. Sam helped him despite himself, although he really wanted to make him lie still. He seemed to have been unconscious for a long time. They both had.

But then to Sam’s surprise and discomfort, his brother was reaching for him suddenly: grasping for his arms and pulling himself closer between them to the younger man until his chest was pressed tightly against his body. _Really_ tight against him.

“Um, Dean?” He felt like he should put his arms round the smaller man, but…this wasn’t only his _brother_ , this was _Dean_. And Dean did _not_ do chick flick moments! Perhaps he had really banged his head hard?

“Sam, what _was_ that?” Dean _must_ have smashed his head hard, Sam could feel him physically shaking and trembling against him. Despite himself, he did move his arms to surround his brother’s smaller body and try to calm him.

“I don’t know, but I think we need to get you to a hospital.”

“I’m fine: I just want to go home. Can we go home now, Sam? _Please?_ I don’t like it here.”

Sam blinked and looked down at the man all but buried in his arms. And he realised something strange: Dean was no longer wearing his leather jacket, jeans and boots. Somehow he was wearing a dark green sweatshirt with a collared shirt beneath, dark slacks and some type of sneakers. How had he changed his clothes?

And at the same time, Dean was taking a deep breath in to try and reassure himself that he and Sam were safe. And then he stopped and inhaled again. And then he was pushing Sam almost over on his back, burying his nose into his brother’s neck and really, _really_ breathing in, as deeply as he could.

Then he was just as suddenly pushing Sam away and leaping backwards away from him with one incredibly swift, abnormal movement from a sitting position to land cat-like on his feet. “Where’s your scent? It’s gone: I can hardly smell you! And where’s your suit?”

They stared at each other for a horrified moment as both came to the same unbelievable conclusion.

“You’re not my Sam! Where’s my Sam? What have you _done_ with him?” And Dean was backing away across the room, tears glinting in his eyes, eyes that were wide with fear.

Sam hurried to get to his feet. This was impossible. This wasn’t _Dean_. “Wait….”

But the other was already turning and running for the way they had come in. And he ran _fast_. Faster than Sam could almost follow with his eyes into the near darkness as he also broke into a run, desperate to try and stop his brother…thing that looked like his brother….from getting away from him.

He took the metal stairs three at a time but still only reached the top in time to see Dean, or whatever it was, struggling to undo the heavy metal door that they had originally entered the building through. “Wait!” Sam put on a sprint to try and stop the other from getting through that entrance and out into the street.

But he wasn’t quite fast enough as Dean finally managed to pull back the heavy bolt and slipped through the doorway, pulling it shut behind him with a loud slam that caused Sam to lose precious time in trying to follow. He swore and swung the metal back, anxious not to lose sight of his brother as he emerged into what must now be rush hour in Kansas City: if he lost him amongst all the commuters, he would struggle to find him.

His heart plummeted as he saw the being that looked like his brother already at the entrance to the alleyway that they had followed the fleeing were-creature into. “Dean, wait!” It was a last ditch attempt to stop him from simply running into the crowd of pedestrians that were already making their way to their jobs for the day, but he knew he was already too late.

But to his relief, and his surprise, the other man faltered. He just stood at the edge of the alleyway at the multitude of milling faces, and seemed to freeze where he was. Then just as Sam had nearly reached him, Dean was backing away from the street, his footsteps unsteady and erratic.

Sam took his chance and simply crashed into his brother, taking him right off his feet and slamming him into the wall of the building beside them. Then before Dean could recover and swing at him, he was wrapping his longer limbs around the smaller man, using his weight advantage to tie him up in a cage of solid, strong living muscle and holding him down physically on the ground.

He braced for the counter attack that would surely come.

But there wasn’t one. Instead his brother simply stared up at him and whimpered with fear. “There’s too many people, but no scents! Where’s all the scents? I can’t….not the people! What _is_ this place? Where’s my Sam? I want to go _home_.”

And then to Sam’s consternation, he began to cry.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean came round on the floor in the cellar to find himself in the arms of his brother.

Literally.

Sam was resting on the ground, and had pulled Dean onto his lap in a sitting position with his legs bent into an almost foetal position and his brother surrounding them with one arm while his other was wrapped around Dean’s back, holding the smaller man in closely to his chest.

And he was talking to Dean, almost as if trying to soothe him: “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. Are you hurt, baby? Anything broken? Oh, baby, it’s okay.” And to Dean’s horror, his mouth was brushing against Dean’s ear, his forehead, his jaw, his lips…

“Sam?” Dean spluttered and tried to pull away from the vice like grasp that he was in. “What’s with you? You had a bang to the head?”

“Are you okay, baby? You’re right, I shouldn’t have made you come with me. I’m sorry, baby.” And his mouth was again on Dean’s, his tongue pressing through to meet the other man’s.

“For….!” And Dean was pushing his brother away forcibly and struggling to get to his feet. Even as he hurried to move from his lap, Sam was helping him to stand by putting his large hands around Dean’s waist and making sure he was stable on his feet. “Have you gone _insane?_ ” This was said with a hiss of extreme embarrassment.

“Dean? Are you alright?” Sam was getting to his feet as well, his hands still on Dean’s hips as if they had been glued there. He looked down at the smaller man with concern. And love. Before Dean could react, he was pulling Dean tightly to him and kissing him with…an accustomed passion.

And Dean was trying to pull away from him but he just couldn’t move: he was being held that tightly. He knew Sam was strong, but this seemed like… this was more than just Sam somehow. He did the only thing he could and kicked out as hard as he could, feeling a little guilty as Sam exclaimed and bit down on his own tongue in shock.

“Dean! What the hell!”

“What do you mean ‘what the hell’? Sam, _what_ are you _on?_ ”

They glared at each other in the darkness of the cellar. Dean recovered himself first, checked he still had his gun and looked for his flashlight on the ground. “What the hell was that glowing thing? And that burst of light? Where’s my fucking torch gone?”

“Dean! Language! What’s wrong with you?”

“Me?” But Dean had seen the shape on the ground of the light and moved to pick it up. Carefully he pressed the switch and to his relief, it turned on.

“Ugh! Turn that off! You trying to blind me?” Sam was gasping and covering his eyes. “Where did you get that from?”

“What?” But Dean was shining it in Sam’s direction as he was speaking and realising that his brother’s clothes had changed. “How are you wearing a suit?”

Sam paused from shielding his eyes from the painful brightness and stared at him. Then he took a deep inhale. And another. “Since when did you look so _scruffy?_ And what’s wrong with your scent? It’s all but gone!”

He took a step towards Dean, but this time there was nothing friendly or loving in his expression. And Dean was fast coming to the conclusion as well, that there was something definitely wrong and he didn’t want to be in this cellar with his little brother anymore.

Because he didn’t think it _was_ his brother.

But even as he began to back up, Sam, or not-Sam as the case seemed to be, was on him. Far faster than he had ever moved before, even when juiced up on demon blood. And he was strong, really strong. He picked Dean up by his neck as he were nothing and held him off his feet up against the stone wall, using his larger solid body to crowd the smaller man into submission.

Dean gasped for breath as he was crushed. “Sam!” It was an instinctive response.

“How do you know my name? What _are_ you?” Now his brother’s nose was buried into his neck and the larger man was inhaling so deeply that Dean could feel the suction against his skin. “And what have you done with my mate?”

“Wait… _mate?_ I’m your _mate?_ ”

“ _You_ are nothing. Now tell me: where is _Dean!_ ”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Dean could feel his vision turning black: Sam was holding him too tight, he couldn’t breathe. “Please! I and my brother were in this cellar, it looks exactly like this one. Then there was this thing that had a bright glow and I picked it up. And then I woke up here! I don’t know how!” The last words were struggled out through a gasp as he lost the last of his air.

Then he was hitting the ground with a painful thud as Sam, or whatever this thing was that looked so like him, released him suddenly. Even as Dean lay dazed, desperately sucking in much needed oxygen, the other Sam was pushing him fully onto his back, straddling his chest and deliberately kneeling on his arms. Satisfied that Dean was pinned beneath him, he leant back on his heels and contemplated the smaller man.

“This is impossible. You look exactly like Dean: even your scent is the same, but much weaker. I can hardly smell it. Who are you and how did you do this?” His expression was serious and angry, and his hands were folded into fists and raised, ready to respond with serious violence to any explanation he didn’t think was true.

“I didn’t. And my name is Dean as well. Please believe me. I picked up this glowing thing….”

“So did _my_ Dean. Or so he said he did. But I couldn’t see it.”

“Neither could my _Sam!_ He asked what the hell I was talking about. So I picked it up to show him.”

They stared at each other. Dean tried to shift beneath the other: the stone floor was uncomfortable and hard, as well as being cold on his back. Still Sam just studied him, with as much contempt showing on his face as if he were studying a bacteria on a laboratory slide.

Dean tried to calm himself down and think. “Somehow… I don’t know how... But we’ve got swapped. Either you or me. So? Whose world are we in? Mine or yours?”

Still the other just stared at him in silence. Dean felt himself lose the use of his arms as the circulation was cut off beneath the bony knees, and knew it would be painful when the other finally did move. “Shall we go and see?” he suggested.

Then this Sam shook his head to brush his long hair back exactly as the real Sam did, and finally went to get up. “You stay.”

Sensibly Dean did, waiting until the large feet had stepped back out of stamping range. But as he rolled over to get his legs beneath him, he was suddenly grabbed by the back of the neck and pulled upright to be shaken roughly. “You try anything, and I will break all your limbs, do you understand?”

Dean nodded and winced at the strength of the grip at the top of his back. Then he was being forced to walk across to the stairs by the other man, still with that painful grip on his neck with one hand, and the other hand now firmly wrapped around the bicep on his left arm. Dean stumbled in the near darkness and noticed that Sam didn’t seem to be hampered in any way by it. In fact: hadn’t he been surprised when he had seen Dean’s flashlight? Come to that, where was it? Then he remembered that he had dropped it when Sam had nearly suffocated him.

“Wait.” Dean tried to stop so he could look back. “I’ve left my….” His head hit the ground before he could finish his sentence and he could feel Sam’s knee in the small of his back.

“What is it? What are you trying to do….?”

“My flashlight, that’s all!” Dean gasped. “I just wanted to get my flashlight.” But he was aware of the other man now rocking on his spine with his knee as if feeling something with it. He couldn’t think of what it could be as all he could concentrate on was the pain that the action was causing him, because Sam was kneeling right on where his gun was tucked in to his jeans and making it dig hard into his back and….Oh shit!

Even as he registered what the other man had just realised, Sam was snatching the gun out with a growl of anger. And it _was_ a growl: one that echoed around the vast space until Dean could feel it through his entire body. He felt a tremor of fear both from the anger that he could feel coursing through the other Sam and from his own gun suddenly being cocked and the muzzle pressed against his head.

“What the hell is _this?_ Why are you carrying a weapon? What are you?” Both knees were on Dean’s back as well by now and he was having trouble breathing again.

“I’m human! And a Hunter. I carry it for protection: for myself as well as others. If I’d wanted to use you on you, I would already have done so! I just….I’m just trying to work out what’s going on here, that’s all! One of us is in the wrong world!”

He fell silent, wincing as he was sure he could feel at least one of the ribs in his back cracking under the bony weight of his brother. Well, the being that looked so incredibly like his brother. Then: “Give me both your hands!”

“What?”

“Your hands! Both of them, behind you! Now!”

Dean swore to himself, but he knew he had no choice. It was either submit to being tied up or risk being crushed beneath this Sammy lookalike who was making it perfectly clear that he didn’t care what happened to him. He put his hands behind him and felt his wrists be tied together with some sort of cloth.

Then, just as before, he was pulled to his feet by the method of a very strong hand gripping the back of his neck. Turning round, he noticed that Sam’s tie was now missing from his smart suit ensemble, and he knew what was restraining his hands. He also noticed Sam pocketing his gun. “I’ll keep this, for safety. You can have it when I get my mate back!”

“I’ve already told you: I’m as much in the dark about what’s happened as you are!”

“We’ll see.”

This time, Dean made no argument at all as they retraced his previous steps and returned up the stairs. But at the top, once back in the large expanse of empty warehouse, he came to a sudden and somewhat panicked stop.

“What now?” The growl was right in his ear, but Sam broke it off as Dean turned to him with a dazed expression.

“There’s no dust.”

“What?” But this was said quieter, less anger in the voice. Sam could tell the smaller man was stunned by what he was, or in this case, _wasn’t_ seeing.

“The dust. We were kicking it up as we walked through. There’s no _dust!_ ”

And it was true: the building, although architecturally the same was clean and clear of any debris. And the light was different: the windows were still boarded up, but now the light coming through them was bright from the full strength of around midday. Dean could see the interior of the warehouse quite clearly now: no rubbish strewn around; no crates; no rotting trash can; no thick residue of dust.

“Oh God, it’s _me_ that’s not in Kansas anymore!”

“What are you talking about? You’re still in Kansas City.”

“Yeah, but…I don’t think it’s _mine_ …”

Dean didn’t know what to do. Or say. And suddenly he didn’t want to go out of that door, didn’t want to see what lay beyond. But Sam was making him move again, forcing him to walk to the metal door that he himself had secured behind him when he had come in, and which now was waiting for them half open. And then they were outside, in the bright light of early afternoon in Kansas City in Spring.

But it wasn’t the same city as it had been when he had entered the building earlier.

Dean found himself wandering to the entrance of the alley, aware of Sam just behind him with a grip still on his tied arms in warning, but allowing him to see where they were. And it was _different_ : there were the same buildings, the same automobiles. But this was a clean, brightly painted city. There was no grime, no litter, no graffiti.

And the people were different: Dean wasn’t sure how, but they were. And then he remembered how this Sam had scented him, and he watched the throngs as they passed him and realised that they were all doing the same thing. No, not all. He could the noses of about half of the people walking past him continually sniffing the air as they walked. It was another sense, as normal to them as breathing or seeing.

And then, as he paused at the entrance to the alleyway and stared at them, a few that were scenting the air as they walked were slowing their steps, and pausing, and inhaling again, and some were turning to scent the air again, and they were staring at him then coming closer. Not just one person...being... but a few of them. Despite himself, Dean found he was taking a step backwards into the solid body of his brother at which point he could retreat no further. Then the passers-by were pressing against him, _scenting_ him, their noses to his neck just as this Sam had done.

“He has a scent, but very faint…But _wow!_ ” “Oh by Our Lady, that’s so...” “He’s beautiful... those eyes....” “Is he claimed? There’s no sign of a mark, how much do you want for him?” “That scent. I could take him all day....it’s only light but _incredibly_ arousing!” “He’s stunning! Name your price. I want him, just _name_ it!”

“What the?”

“He’s not for sale. Even though he does tend to open his mouth when he would be better being silent.” Sam’s voice was stern from behind him, and he was stepping around Dean to put his large body between his brother and his flock of new admirers.

“Sure he’s yours? Show me his mark or I’ll claim him right here. I can’t see his _mark!”_ One bald-headed man was getting belligerent. Dean wanted to tell him to go to hell, but given that he had five beings now crowded around him, _reaching_ for him, decided it would be more sensible to heed the not so discrete warning that Sam had just given him. He might be used to being tied up, but being offered for sale was a new experience that he wasn’t so keen on repeating.

“ _Can’t_ you?” And Sam now had a painfully tight grip around Dean’s arm and was pushing him through the crowd, growling at them all as he went in a very unhuman manner until they parted finally but reluctantly to let the angry and extremely _large_ Alpha pass, and making him walk quickly down the street.

“Keep quiet and just keep walking,” he whispered in his brother’s ear. “We’re nearly there.”

“Where?” Dean hissed back.

“Here.” And Sam was pulling him to a stop beside a modern but boring looking black car, unlocking it with a click of the key he now had in his hand, and pushing Dean in and through to the passenger seat as he hurriedly got in after him.

Immediately he pressed down the doorlocks and sealed them both in. “Shit.” He ran his hands through his long hair. “I’d forgotten why Dean hates this place so much. Offering to _buy_ you indeed: like you’re a fucking animal!”

Dean watched him as he moved to start the engine. “Is….is that normal? Do you have _slaves_ here?”

“Worse.” Sam informed him. “We have a shortage of omegas.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sam unlocked the door to the bunker with a sense of relief. He had wanted to stay in Kansas City until he could work out what had happened to his brother, but this new Dean was so nervous and afraid of everything that eventually he had elected to drive the four or so hours back to where they now lived. At least his brother might feel safer there.

Besides, he reasoned to himself, the odds were good that one of the Men of Letters books would have the answer to what had happened and how to put it right.

So he opened the heavy steel door and turned to Dean. Only to realise that his brother, or the thing that looked so like him, wasn’t behind him. With a sigh Sam realised that he was still in the back of the Impala where he had finally curled into the corner like a frightened child and gone to sleep.

Sam took a breath and tried to calm himself before crossing to the car to open the door. “Come on, let’s get you inside: you can settle in a proper bed if you want. It’s okay, you’ll be safe here. Once the door to the outside is shut, nothing can get in.” He held out his hand and tried to look reassuring.

Wide green eyes sleepily looked up at him, then Dean was scrambling out of the car and taking his hand. But he still looked nervous as he peered in through the open entrance.

“Come on.” And Sam locked the Impala up and led him in. Dean jumped as the outer door shut with its metallic clang and looked as if he would hyperventilate. But Sam was already squeezing his fingers and encouraging him to go down the stairs to the main floor. “There’s only you and me here. And we’ve already established that _I’m_ not going to hurt you….”

This had indeed been established by a long and emotional few minutes in the alley by the warehouse that morning, when Sam had knelt on the ground and held Dean until he had just about cried himself out, trying to ignore the stares of curious passersby. Luckily nobody had felt enough interest to actually come in to the alleyway and ask them if they were alright. Then once Dean had calmed down, Sam had taken him the short distance further into the alley to where they were parked, grateful that he had been the one to have had the keys.

Dean had taken one look at the car and burst into tears again. “What is it?” By now, Sam was getting exasperated.

“This was _dad’s_ Impala!” Dean told him through his sobs. “The exact one!”

“So why are you crying about it? Did he sell it?”

“No, he _died_ in it. It was a terrible crash. I miss him.”

And Sam had put his arms around him again. Because he missed his father as well: something he never thought he would do until it was too late.

Finally he had coaxed Dean to get into the back of the car: “Just settle down there and get some rest. I don’t know about you but I need something to eat. And then we’ll try and work out what’s happened.”

His brother had obeyed and lain down on the rear seat, tense and hugging his arms around himself nervously. But he didn’t stay there long: for as soon as Sam had started the engine and eased the car out into the heavy morning rush-hour traffic and the, to Dean, strange new world was suddenly all around them, he was sitting up abruptly and lunging across to the door. Sam panicked for a moment, thinking that Dean was going to run away from him again, but instead he was slamming his hand down on the locks and then huddling, almost _cowering_ against the back of the driver’s seat.

“Can they get in?” And Sam realised that he was talking about the herds of pedestrians that were surrounding the sides of the car.

“No. Not now we’re locked in.”

He was startled as he felt something on the side of his body: Dean’s hand was creeping around the edge of the seat, desirous of physical touch to soothe his obvious fear of the throngs of people outside. More than physical: Sam felt himself becoming alarmed as well as slightly….aroused… as his brother’s fingers slipped beneath the hem of his undershirt until they were resting against his warm skin.

Somehow Dean’s touch was incredible. And there was something else distracting Sam from having full attention on the road and the heavy traffic in front of them. He wasn’t sure what it was until Dean shifted his position slightly to push his full hand around Sam’s now exposed waist and then he realised.

It was the scent in the car. One that he had never smelt before, and yet he had, but nowhere near as strong as this. An aroma of sweetness, of spring; of meadow wildflowers; of the muskiness of the leather in the Impala: no, it was a muskiness that was _Dean._ Somehow he associated this scent with _Dean_.

He inhaled deeply and realised that it was emanating from his brother… from the being that looked so much like him. But in the confined condition of the car, it was really strong, seeping into every one of Sam’s pores. And it was causing far more of a totally incorrect response in his body than a simple family member’s touch and smell should do.

“Dean?”

“Yes, Sam?” The other had his head leant against the back of the seat and his eyes closed tight against the terrifying world outside their enclosed travelling box.

“Hands off, dude.”

The other pulled his hand back as if he had been scalded, then huddled back onto the rear seat, trying not to look out of the window of either side. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t.

Because Sam was really disappointed and wanted his brother’s touch back on him again. He found himself wishing he hadn’t said anything, and then he wondered why he felt like that.

He had noticed a drive-through when they had arrived the previous day and headed towards it: he hadn’t eaten since the previous evening and he was guessing that this being, that was so like his brother in looks, would share the same large appetite for food. “What would you like? Bacon cheeseburger with fries?”

To his surprise, Dean had looked at him with disgust through the rear view mirror: “Blegh. Salad is fine.”

“Fried chicken with it?”

“No. Nothing fried.”

So Sam had gone to get himself breakfast and the other some food and decided there and then to drive all the way back to the bunker, as Dean had freaked out when he had opened the window at the serving hatch. Staying in a public motel with him would _not_ be a sensible idea.

They ate as he drove: Sam worrying for once about how _little_ his brother seemed to be eating. But Dean seemed perfectly satisfied with his order plus a bottle of water, while Sam picked first at his _own_ burger and fries that he told himself he had only bought for convenience, then he ate a second portion of both that he had got expecting the other to change his mind and want anyway.

And they had talked.

Sam asked him to remember in as much detail as possible what had happened that day, which turned out to be very similar to his and his brother’s experience: he and Sam had been in the cellar, this Dean had seen the pale blue glowing thing, _his_ Sam hadn’t. Dean had moved to touch it, there was a blinding flash of blue light, and then he had woken up in the cellar, and the rest Sam knew.

“So what do you think it was? Could you feel something physical when you touched whatever it was? Or just an energy?”

“Definitely something physical. But it was glowing then: now it just looks like a stone.”

“So….enchantment perhaps? A spell of some sort?” Sam was trying to think, then he paused: “What did you just say?”

Dean fumbled in his pocket and pulled something out. “I said: it just looks like a stone. But this is only half of what it was. Your Dean must have the other half.”

“I….what?” And Sam was pulling over to the kerb, and reaching round to see what Dean was holding out to him.

It looked like a stone.

Just a stone.

A plain stone-coloured stone, small enough to comfortably fit in his hand. Or it could have been a large pebble: a near-perfectly smooth flattish stone that would have been perfect for ‘skipping’ across water had it been in one piece.

But one edge was straightish, and jagged as if it had been sheared away from a corresponding piece. And somehow the edges of the broken-off part of it looked glassy as if they had almost been _molten_ by some tremendous heat or force.

“I tend to hold tight to things when I’m anxious,” Dean commented, “but the thing glowing was larger, twice the size of this.”

“So, you think whatever this is, it broke? When whatever happened, _happened?_ ”

“You’re not very articulate, are you, Sam?”

Sam glared at him and started the car up again. “Keep that safe. I’ll examine it properly when we get to the bunker.”

“Do you think your Dean went to where I come from?”

“I’m hoping so. It would make sense that you’ve swapped places: we ‘ve just got to work out how and then swap you both back safely.”

But Dean didn’t respond. And Sam later wondered about that.

First and most important thing though: get the ‘new’ Dean into the bunker, get him settled, then attack the books. “You can have Dean’s room….erm, _my_ Dean’s room, or choose one of your own. It’s that way…..”

But his words tailed off as Dean straightened up where he stood, and inhaled deeply. “Yours is there.” He let his nose follow the scent and his feet took him directly to, and straight into, Sam’s room, with the young man trailing after him in amazement. “Mine, well, the Dean of this world: his is here.” Again he was correct. “May I?”

Sam nodded as he indicated the door and opened it.

He didn’t seem very impressed with Dean’s bedroom, his eyebrows went up at the sight of the weaponry all over the walls, but he stood and looked around. Sam noticed that he still seemed to be inhaling as he did, but he made no comment. Instead he turned expectantly to Sam: “I am to stay here?”

“If you want. Just… look, please be careful of _my_ Dean’s stuff. He hasn’t got much and he gets possessive over it, but at least I know his clothes will fit you. You can borrow any of those you need.

The bathroom is down the hall. We have a kitchen you can use, and you’re welcome to explore, but...well... I meant what I told you about this place on route. Just don’t go touching anything in any of the other rooms without checking with me: we’ve got enough weird to deal with at the moment without anything else getting chucked into the mix. But it’s _safe_ here. _You’ll_ be safe here.

I’m going to start trying to try and work out what’s happened. So....shout if you need anything, okay?”

 

 *     *     *     *     *    *    *

 

Sam pulled the car up to the small house where he and Dean lived. He was proud of it: it wasn’t huge and had only one upstairs bathroom and a small downstairs restroom, but it was in a good neighbourhood in one of the outer suburbs of the city that was filled with families like they were: hard-working, respectable and a good mixture of Alphas, omegas and betas. They all looked after each other and he was satisfied that his beautiful mate was safe there.

He turned the engine off and looked over at the strange but identical being who had somehow taken the place of his Dean. “Look,” he began hesitantly. “I don’t know what’s going on, I can’t even get my head around what happened, but you’ve seen how unsafe this world will be for you. I’m…just asking you to behave when we go in. The kids are going to be upset enough at the disappearance of their mother, all I’m asking is that…”

“Wait! What?” And Dean was sitting up straight in the passenger seat, his eyes wide. “What do you mean, _mother?_ You mean, Dean? The other Dean: he’s a _mother?_ How… _how?_ ”

“Well you see, there’s these birds and some bees…”

“I know _how_ , bitch! Actually….no! I _don’t_ know how! He’s a man, right? The other Dean? He’s male, like me?”

“He’s a male omega. Like you. _Jerk_.”

They each looked at each other as if a challenge had been set: somehow they had both passed the test and the first connection had been made.

“What the hell is an _omega?_ And how the hell does a _man_ have a baby?”

“It’s what Dean is, and it’s normal here. You can’t have children? Even though you have the scent of an omega, faint though it is, you are more of a male beta?”

Dean snorted. “What the hell is a _beta?_ And no man where I come from can. Only the women.”

Sam stared at him in wonder. “Here the female betas can, and both sexes of omegas. But _all_ omegas are getting rare now, and male ones like my Dean especially so. With so many betas breeding with each other, well, even Alphas are beginning to be bred out. The population is changing quite markedly, and earlier you witnessed the result.”

He sighed and leant forward confidentially, “To be with an omega, Dean, is….quite incredible. Every Alpha wants one, and unfortunately that means it is getting more and more unsafe for them to be out unprotected.” He scrubbed at his face: this was getting off topic. “You’re…he…. _my_ Dean. He’s my mate, and the love of my life. And the mother of our three children. I just want to know he’s safe.”

“Three!”

“Two sons and a daughter. And they all are going to be distraught about their mother’s disappearance. Just… _please_ …”

He glanced over at the man sitting beside him in the car. A man who had his hands still fastened together behind him by Sam’s tie. A man who had appeared from nowhere in a cellar at exactly the same time that his mate had vanished. He didn’t know what he was expecting when he glanced over: anger; hatred; fear?

But all he got was a nod. “In my world, Sam and I are brothers. So you’re _mates?_ And you’ve got kids, huh? How old?”

Sam felt that a huge pressure had just been lifted off him. “Come and meet them.” He got out from behind the wheel and went round the car to help the other man out, leaning over him to undo his seatbelt, and pulling his body forward slightly so he could undo the tie from around his wrists.

Instinctively he scented the smaller body as he did: the aroma of his mate was there, but faint, much fainter than normal. He really had to inhale deeply to drink it in, but it was the same. Just as sweet, just as intoxicating.

Just as arousing.

Somehow this man _was_ exactly the same as his mate but from another world, another dimension. And Sam’s organised, lawyer mind couldn’t compute that at all.

The tie had cut into Dean’s wrists enough to make marks, and as he got out of the car he rubbed absently at them to try and restore the circulation. Then to his shock, Sam was catching at them in his large hands and kissing tenderly at the sores. “What the….?”

He snatched his hands away and glared up at his brother, who looked down at him in a slightly dazed fashion. Then they were both startled by a shout from the neighbour who had witnessed it. “Hah! Sam! In trouble with the Missus? Not like you!”

Sam recovered himself enough to laugh loudly and call back: “I’m always in trouble, Ronnie! But it’s worth it just to get the make-up sex!”

Ronnie paused and looked at them: no, he looked straight at Dean. “I’d be in trouble all the time if I had _that_ in my bed, Sam.” It suddenly wasn’t just banter: his tone was leering, his eyes undressing Dean where he stood, his tongue absently emerging to lick at his own lips.

Despite himself, Dean shuddered. And he smelt, he actually _smelt_ the rage that poured off Sam at the crude words. His brother had a definite aroma around him that suddenly increased exponentially. He realised that he had smelt it before, in the street with all the onlookers scenting him, but he had been too stunned by what was happening to have taken much notice. But there was no escaping it here, especially as Sam was protectively pulling him to stand behind him.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Ron?” The words were snarled.

The lusty smile wiped quickly off the neighbour’s face. “Nothing… nothing, Sam! I’m just saying….Your Dean is a mighty fine looking omega. You’re very lucky!” And he was hastily backing away and up the driveway into his own house.

The two brothers stood in silence for a long moment. Dean could see the tension in Sam’s shoulders and after being manhandled around by him earlier, he really didn’t want to disturb him. But… he was tired, he was hungry, and he desperately needed the bathroom. So…

“Sam?” And carefully, he put his hands up onto his brother’s shoulders and began to massage them, hoping he wouldn’t just end up flat on his back on the ground again. “Shall we go in?”

Sam stirred: he stretched out his back and straightened up to his full six foot four height, feeling his muscles yield and relax beneath the touch of his mate. Well, not his mate, but at least they could give the impression to that fucking leering bastard next door: if he _ever_ looked at Dean like that again…

His mate had been telling him the truth: not even _here_ was safe.

He turned suddenly and grabbed for the smaller man, pulling him close and plunging his tongue into his mouth.

“Nrngh!”

But Sam had his arms tight around him and wasn’t going to let Dean go no matter how much he tried to break the hold. “Make it look real! I mean it!”

He could feel the revulsion in the smaller body pressed against his, but Dean fought it down and tried to act as if he was enjoying being kissed by his younger brother.

To his chagrin, Sam realised that he didn’t have to act. His eyes were dark with lust when he finally released the other man from the enforced embrace, and Dean was alarmed when he realised how hard his brother was in his suit when he stepped back. Sam could see the nervousness in his face, but then he was taking Dean’s hand and leading him into the house. “I’m not going to touch you, just play along.” Just for good measure, he put his hand on Dean’s ass as he allowed him to go in through the door first: that will show that bastard Ronnie!

Then, as he had expected, Dean was pulling away from him the moment they got inside out of sight. “What the fuck was that about?”

Instead of an answer he found himself being slammed face first into the nearest wall. “I have _told_ you, our children are here! If I _ever_ hear you use language like that again, I will…”

“Dad?”

As one they turned, and Sam hastily released his mate….thing that looked like him, instead keeping his large hand around the back of his neck as a warning as well as a tight grip on his arm. But Dean was staring at the children.

He could _see_ himself in them: they all had his eyes, his long eyelashes, his full pink lips. And they all had Sam’s long limbs, and he just _knew_ that they had his dimples. Two younger ones: a boy of about nine and a girl of about seven. But it was the eldest one he couldn’t take his eyes off: “He must be, what? Sixteen? Seventeen? How old was I when I _had_ them?”

And the boy….young man was stepping forward with just as much interest. “This isn’t mom. But he’s….” and his nose was suddenly against Dean’s neck, breathing him in. “His scent.... it’s beautiful.”

“Whoa. _Whoa!_ ” Dean was pulling away seriously unnerved by his proximity, and hurried to hide behind his brother…thing that looked like his brother. “What the hell _is_ this place! What’s with all this....touching and sniffing me!”

“Samuel, behave yourself!” Sam sighed. “No, he’s not your mother. But you _will_ treat him with respect, please. He’s not… like us, in fact he seems to be very different. I mean it, Samuel.”

The young man pouted: an action _very_ reminiscent of his father, Dean thought, but he obediently stepped away. Although his eyes never left Dean’s face.

“Dean. This is Samuel, he is sixteen: you were nineteen when you had him. And this is Johnny, and my little Mary-Anne. Children, something very strange happened today, I’m not sure what, and I can’t explain it. But this is Dean. As you can see: he is the image of your mother. But he is very different: his lack of scent for a start. And for that reason, it will be best if we don’t mention that he isn’t your mother outside this house. To anyone. It could make it very dangerous for him here if we do.”

The last sentence only nearly caught Dean’s attention away from what he was trying to work out: “If _I_ was nineteen, then _you_ were…”

“Fourteen, Dean.” Sam sighed. “I was fourteen when we first mated. I know you don’t understand.”

“ _Fourteen?_ You were _fourteen?_ I… was it _me?_ Did I corrupt you? Oh God, what did I do? How _could_ I have _touched_ you: you were just a kid _yourself!_ ”

Sam turned and stared at him. Dean didn’t understand his expression at all. He understood it even less when Sam suddenly smiled genuinely at him, his dimples dipping to their full depth, yet with an intense sadness in his eyes.

But he didn’t answer the question.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam was all but asleep when he thought he heard his bedroom door open and close. It went through his head for an instant that he couldn’t have pushed it too properly, but then he realised that that wouldn’t have caused the door to swing open. Or back again. Something, or someone, had to have opened it.

He lay quietly and listened, every inch of his long body on full alert in case. Nothing happened. He had all but convinced himself that he must have been imagining things, the day had been so strange and he was overwrought at the loss of his brother and the appearance of the near identical but so different being, when there was a definite slight rustle of movement at the end of his bed, by the chair where he has discarded his clothes he had been wearing that day onto. Then complete silence once more.

Sam waited a long time but the door never opened again.

Finally he couldn’t bear the tension any longer. He wasn’t sure why the other Dean had come into his room but he had. And he didn’t seem to have come in to attack Sam, although the young man was still tensed and ready in case.

Carefully he raised himself up on one elbow and began to try and look around his room in the dark, squinting to make out shapes in the gloom. Anything that his brain couldn’t immediately equate as not being there previously.

Nothing looked out of place.

By now he was sitting fully up on his bed, desperate to see where the other man was. There was no sign of him by the chair, or by the door, or anywhere. Finally he reached to turn on the lamp beside him on the small table.

And then he paused.

The other Dean was lying on the floor right beside him, curled into a little ball like a kitten would do. Sam could see he was hugging something in his arms. And he could also see the man physically shaking.

He was out of the bed before he had thought. “Dean? What are you doing?”

He knelt down beside him, instinctively wrapping his arms around his brother’s lookalike. The other snuffled a little and curled himself even tighter but didn’t pull away. Not for the first time it went through Sam’s head how strange this must all be for him. He had been physically torn out of his version of reality, obviously a _completely_ different version of reality, and he was obviously a completely different version of his brother. Sam couldn’t even begin to get his head around how confusing it all must be.

If there was one thing that Sam was suddenly sure of, it was that _this_ being had not been the cause of what had happened. In fact he was as lost as the real Dean. Sam could only hope that his brother wasn’t as terrified as this man was, and he sent out a prayer that the other Sam would be looking after him better than _he_ had managed with this Dean so far.

“Dean, you’re shivering. Come on, you take the bed. Let’s get you warmed up. Come on.”

He had his hands underneath the other by now and physically lifted him up onto his mattress. The man squeaked a little, the only sound he made, and looked at Sam with wide, scared eyes. As Sam also settled on the bed he realised that Dean was clutching the shirt that he had been wearing earlier. Instinctively he reached to take it, but stalled his hand when his brother, well, the other version of him, flinched a little and huddled into himself, still with a tight grip on the shirt.

“I’m sorry.” He could barely hear the little voice. “It has your scent on it and you smell like… _my_ Sam. I just wanted to…. Everything’s so different… “

“It must be. I should have thought. But what were you doing on the floor? Come on, you’re freezing, get under the covers. Please.” And he was pushing Dean down into the bed and wrapping the blankets around him, lying on top of them next to the shivering man so he could put his arms around him.

Dean went rigid for a long moment, but then suddenly turned to face Sam beneath the covers and wriggled as close as he could get to him, his face pressed into Sam’s neck in the same way as he had done when he had arrived in that cellar. The younger man couldn’t help the instinctive judder running through his body as a natural response to the tickle, but forced himself to remain still otherwise apart from tightening his arms and holding the other close. It was with relief that he slowly felt the trembling stop and the man sigh a little as he settled.

“I’m not always like this.” It was just a whisper in the darkened room. “It’s just… I miss my Sam. And my children. They must be so worried.”

“I want my brother back as well.” Sam reassured him. “ _I’m_ sorry: I’ve been so worried about getting him back that I’ve forgotten that _you’re_ lost as well and that’s not fair. Whatever happened in that cellar, it’s happened to both of you. But we’ll put it right. Somehow. You have _children?_ ”

“Yes. Three.”

“My Dean would have loved to have had children. He’d make a great dad, he really would. I wish he could have met someone and got out of this shitty life we lead. How old are yours? And did you and Sam adopt? Or are they yours by somebody else?”

The man stirred in his arms and looked curiously up at him. “They’re _our_ children! Mine and Sam’s! Why would you ask if I had gone to someone else?”

Sam blinked. “But… I thought Sam was like me? I mean….I assumed he’s a man, because you thought he was me. Or I was him…. Whichever…?”

“Sam _is_ like you. Even down to the scent, although yours is very muted. That’s why I wanted your shirt because it’s covered in it. And your bed is: thank you for letting me use it.”

“But how have you got children then? IVF?”

“What’s IVF?”

“Help having children when you biologically can’t. Or did you use a surrogate mother….?”

Dean pulled away from him suddenly and sat up on the bed, staring at him. Sam lay and looked back at his silhouette in the dark, reflecting as he did that this Dean really _did_ have an extremely strong sense of smell to have located his shirt in the darkened room, and, it seemed, far better eyesight than he did. Or indeed, than any human could have.

And as he registered this definite distinction in one respect, Dean confirmed it in another: “ _I_ am their mother! I carried and gave birth to them myself. For my mate, my Alpha. Why are you insinuating that I couldn’t be?”

“Wait. Wait!” Sam sat up onto his elbow and tried to process this. “ _You_ gave birth to them? As in… _you_ got pregnant? And went through labour, and they’re _your_ children!?”

“Of course.”

“But you’re a man. _Aren’t_ you?”

“I am a male omega, yes. That makes me rare, most omegas are females. Sam has had offers for me, but he has told them all to go to hell.”

“Sam’s your…?”

“Mate. He is my Alpha. And the father of my children.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I assumed he was your brother.” Sam felt foolish, he hadn’t asked a single personal thing about this man….being…thing that was the image of Dean. The coincidence of the two Dean’s swapping places, at least he _hoped_ they had just swapped places, and each being connected to an almost nearly identical being called Sam had led to him reaching conclusions far too soon.

“He _is_ my brother. And my mate.”

“What?” Now Sam was really…beginning to feel quite nauseous. “Sam _is_ your brother? And you’ve had _children_ by him? By your _brother?_ ”

“Of course. It is rare for an omega to mate outside their own family: unless they are snatched and claimed of course.”

“ _Claim_ you? As in… you’re a slave?”

“Not a slave, no. Why do you think that? I am loved. _Really_  loved by Sam and our children.” He was staring at Sam in consternation: the younger man could see his eyes clearly in the dark. Too clearly, they had a slight glow inside them: he was being reminded of wolves or cats eyes, allowing far more light in than his own eyes could. It was becoming more and more obvious that he was lying on a bed in the dark with a being that might look identical to his brother, but most definitely _wasn’t_.

He had two choices: panic or remain calm. And this Dean hadn’t hurt him. In fact he would still swear that this far more timid version of his brother probably didn’t have it in him to do so. And he was a mom!

So Sam took the chance and rolled onto his back, holding up his arm for Dean to lay into and snuggle down beneath. And the other hesitated for a moment, but then the desire for bodily contact and the fainter but still unmistakeably familiar scent of his Alpha took over. He wrapped the blankets around himself and returned to Sam’s arms, his nose buried in the younger man’s neck, trying not to tear up as he thought of his husband and children.

He just wanted to go home.

“So,” Sam was still trying to get his head around this. “You’re an omega…. What’s an omega?”

“You don’t have omegas?”

“No.”

“What about Alphas?”

“No. Well….in dogs, wolves. Alphas and betas. But I’ve never heard of omegas.”

“What _do_ you have?” Dean raised himself enough to look at the younger man, he looked so exactly like _his_ Sam that it hurt: it was only the lack of his Alpha’s soothing and strong aroma that gave the noticeable difference.

“What do you mean?”

“What sexes do you have? We have three: Alpha, betas and omegas. And they can all be male and female in gender.”

Sam blinked at him. “We have just two: male and female. And pretty much one hundred per cent, it is the female who are moms: they’re the only ones who can carry and give birth.”

“Pretty much?”

“Science is messing around. But yeah.”

“Huh!” And Dean bodily pulled the blankets out from beneath Sam until he could cover them both, wriggling even closer to the younger man until he was nearly burrowing himself into the bed beneath Sam’s warm body and smothering himself with the soothing scent.

Sam shifted uncomfortably, fought down his natural embarrassment, and instead twisted himself on his side to wrap his limbs around the other. “This okay like this?”

He felt Dean’s nose push against his neck and the man grunted happily as he breathed him in. They lay in silence a while longer.

“So, how do you…? You’re male? And yet _you’ve_ had children?”

“Yes. Omegas of both genders can carry pups. As well as female betas. Male betas can’t. And no Alpha of either gender. But they _make_ the strongest children. Male and female betas can have children with each other, but they will only ever be betas. Only an Alpha can sire an Alpha or an omega, whether with an omega or a beta.”

“But _you’ve_ got children? Children that _you’ve_ given birth to?”

“I’ve already told you, Sam. Why do you keep asking?”

Sam grinned at him mischievously in the dark. “I’m just imagining _my_ Dean trying to get his head around this!”

 

 *          *          *           *           *           *

 

Dean stood in the bathroom and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He was nervous and he couldn’t place why.

“This place,” he muttered to himself.

It had not been a pleasant evening: unsurprising considering the circumstances, he supposed. He had sat and tried to talk to the two youngest children, the elder one having disappeared back to his room, but they were so silent and just... so intent on staring at him that he had quickly given up and retreated to the kitchen where Sam was making dinner.

He had watched his younger brother for a moment, then offered to help chop the vegetables. He had been thanked with a smile, and was relieved to at least be trusted with the sharp knife. He had so many questions but didn’t know how to ask them, although all thought of asking _any_ had been driven from his mind when Sam had dipped his long finger in to take a swirl of the garlic and herb potato that he had just mashed and held it expectantly for Dean to lick off. Then the kitchen had got very uncomfortable as well.

At least the ‘family’ meal hadn’t lasted long although it had _seemed_ like an age, eaten as it was in near total silence, and then Sam had shooed the kids away to do their respective homework, while Dean had tried to excuse himself and taken refuge upstairs.

Sam had told him to take the main bedroom, while he himself would sleep downstairs on the sofa. But Dean still felt nervous and he wasn’t used to that feeling. It was their eyes, _all_ their eyes on him. And the way they scented him. And the way Sam kept touching him in such a free and intimate manner. And the way the boy had _looked_ at him, like he was a present for the young man to unwrap…. He was a human in a world of monsters and he didn’t like it. It didn’t feel safe: _he_ didn’t feel safe.

For one moment he thought about escaping through the window and running away. But from what he had seen of this world that looked so familiar but was so different, there was nowhere for him to run to that _could_ be safer at the moment. He just had to find his way home.

And the sooner, the better.

With a sigh he exited the bathroom, took a step towards the bedroom, and caught his breath with surprise and a slight nervous fear. The boy, Samuel, was standing right outside the door. He might be only sixteen but he was already as tall as Dean, and skinny in the long-legged coltish way that the real Sam had been at that age. But whereas it had been amusing to joke about ‘goliaths’ and ‘Bigfoot’ with his brother, it wasn’t so funny when this young man stepped forward right into Dean’s space in a way that reminded him immediately of Castiel, and stared straight into his eyes.

Instinctively Dean took a step backwards and sideways. Stupid move: the boy simply took one more assured pace forward and then the only thing between him and the wall was Dean’s body. Dean moved his head back as far as he could get before it hit the wall behind him: he didn’t want to have to force this boy off him, but the way he was getting so _close_ to him…

Then Samuel was reaching with his hands to stroke Dean’s face. “It’s incredible: you’re _so_ like mom, the exact image. And _he_ is beautiful: I know that! My friends have all noticed _that_ , they all already want him. And so are you, yet dad says that you’re nothing _like_ us! Your scent might not be strong, but it is just …so pure. So honeyed. So absolutely _perfect_.”

His eyes were staring deep into Dean’s, green that perfectly matched his own. And Dean had nowhere to go. Desperately he tried to turn his head, to turn his face away. “Listen kid, I don’t know where you’re going with this, but I’m nothing like you, or your mom! And before you start getting ideas, I definitely don’t do _men!_ ”

With all his strength he was pushing the boy away from him, all too aware that Samuel was already strongly built and athletic: he was going to grow into a solid mass of muscle like his father, and like Sam, the real Sam.

The boy wasn’t even fazed, he simply stepped back into Dean’s face, this time deliberately holding him against the wall with his own leaner but deceptively wiry body. Before Dean could get himself ready to shove him away again, Samuel’s nose was buried into the human’s neck and he was inhaling deeply, sighing with pleasure.

Dean exclaimed and tried to pull his head away while attempting to push the young man off him, but it was like trying to shoulder block a solid wall whilst wearing a straight jacket for all the effect he was having as Samuel now had his arms tightly wrapped around him as well. It was with relief that he felt the boy release him suddenly with a laugh of genuine amusement, and finally walk away.

The bedroom door had already closed behind him when Sam appeared at the top of the stairs. His eyebrows raised on seeing Dean leaning looking shaken against the wall in the landing, and his nose twitched as he breathed in the scent of his son all over their guest. Dean flinched at the irritation in the eyes of the being that looked like Sam.

“I apologise. His mother is the one that deals with matters of discipline so Samuel is defying _me_ by acting up. But I will make sure my son behaves. You go on into the bedroom. _Samuel!_ ”

And he was banging his fist against his son’s door, pushing it open and slamming it behind him as he strode into the room. Dean paused, still shaken, and heard the rumble of angry voices begin behind it. Then he became aware that he still wasn’t alone.

Looking around, he saw the two other children watching him from one of the other bedrooms in the landing, half hidden by the mostly closed door. For a moment he wanted to just ignore them and retreat to the relative safety of the main bedroom. But they were just kids. And he could never ignore children.

“Hey. Aren’t you two meant to be in bed?”

There was a silence then the door opened fully as the younger boy and girl emerged. “Mom always reads us a story. Always. Even when he’s tired himself.”

“He sounds like he’s a good mother.” Dean winced at himself: did he really just _say_ that? Man, this world was weird.

“He’s the best!” There were tears in both eyes and then he heard the littlest voice. “Where has he gone? And why are _you_ here? I want _mom!_ ” And then the crying started in earnest.

“Hey. Hey!” And despite himself, Dean was there, wrapping his arms around the two little bodies and holding them both in a great big hug. “I know you want her….him home. And I’m sorry that I’m here instead: I didn’t intend to be. I don’t know how I am. But we’re going to put it right. I promise. We’ll find how to get her…him back for you. I’ll never stop trying to get your mom back.”

“Why do you keep calling him a her?”

Dean wasn’t sure how to answer that one but decided honesty was the only sensible solution. “Because where I come from, it’s different. I’m a human and men are like me and we don’t have children. I mean, we _can’t_ be moms: only the women can, so they’re all automatically ‘ _hers’_! It’s complicated! But finding out that a being that by all accounts looks exactly like me, a male, has given birth to three children is…. frankly a lot for me to take in! But I promise you this: I’ll get him back for you. And until then, well… _.I’ll_ just have to read you your bedtime stories, if you’d like me to, that is.”

“We get to choose the books!” “One each!” The enthusiasm and sudden lack of tears made Dean suspicious that he had been tricked, but he smiled the first genuine smile that he had done since arriving there.

“As long as your dad says it’s okay, and approves the books.”

He began to get up off his knees, only to realise that he now had two new appendages to his body that were both determined not to let go. Eventually he just about struggled to his feet with both children still clinging on to him and giggling, one in each arm. He turned to find Sam standing in the open doorway of Samuel’s room watching him with a smile.

“This okay?”

There was an immediate nod. Dean’s glance went behind the Sammy lookalike to where other eyes were also watching him: green eyes met green eyes, then Dean was forcing down a shiver and instead turning away to keep his promise to the two younger, and much less threatening, children.

They managed to make it last for nearly another half an hour before he finally managed to find the correct tone of ‘bedtime, _now_ ’ that they accepted as unyielding. To his surprise he then got a kiss from each of them: “can you send them to mommy?” It was automatic for Dean to promise that he would save them up so one day soon they could deliver them in person again. Then with relief, he finally got to escape to his own room.

Or rather, the room where the Dean of this world slept with his…husband? Mate? It was just all too weird.

He wasn’t happy though when he opened the door and realised that Sam was on the bed in there as well, sitting resting against the headboard, his long legs stretched out on the covers, reading a book of his own.

“What? Do I have to read you a bedtime story as well?”

The other’s smile was genuine but brief. “No. I was going to sleep downstairs…but….Samuel has confirmed what I was already worried about. And all those Alphas in the street noticed as well: your scent might be weak but it is certainly striking. It would be sensible to stay with you tonight so you can at least pick up some of my scent as a cover for yours.

I apologise again for his behaviour: he is becoming very...challenging. Especially as the time of his presenting becomes closer and he is starting to try and raise his dominance in our household.”

“Presenting?” Dean looked awkwardly around the room: no _way_ was he going on that bed with his not-brother. Sam watched him but made no comment or movement other than to carefully put his book away on the bedside table.

“When we make the transaction from juvenile to mature. It can happen at any time from the start of puberty up to early twenties, or occasionally even later. But usually between the ages of fourteen to sixteen. It is when we are truly defined: until we present, there is always room for doubt, and assumptions can and are often made incorrectly. But once we have presented there is no doubt: we are betas, omegas, or Alphas. And our instincts kick in. Especially in the case of Alphas and omegas.”

“Why them?” Dean was by now sitting on a small chair in the corner of the room. Sam sighed and swung himself off the bed in one easy motion to approach him.

“We are _all_ our instincts. Betas not so much: they are fertile all year around once they present, or, as some would put it, they nonpresent, and remain so until they are about forty years old. They and the Alphas form the majority of the population and can breed together, although without the exquisite joy of knotting of course. Or they can breed with other betas, which unfortunately only ever produces even _more_ betas. And as they can easily control their ability to breed with medication, they are commonplace and have no limits put upon them. Unfortunately, as I have already told you, they are fast forming the majority of the population.

Alphas can go with them: they are okay, but given the chance just about every Alpha would rather have an omega, although so many now _have_ to settle for a beta. But _omegas_...” he sighed and his eyes softened. “Omegas go into heats that are intense, electrifying and irresistible to any and every Alpha around them. They were created by Our Lady Moon to breed, are incredibly fertile, and to claim one and be able to realise the full potential of _knotting_ is...absolutely amazing. You can never have that with a mere beta: it’s just not physically possible as they wouldn’t be able to withstand the full sexual act of an Alpha’s knot, they would literally be torn in two. It’s a shame. Omegas are often hidden once it is established that is what they are, to stop them being stolen and claimed.”

“Claimed?” Dean was growing nervous again as his bro…this Sam was now standing in front of him where he sat.

“It is done in the height of passion, at the very moment of the Alpha coming during the first full act of knotting and mating. Our canines descend” he indicated his teeth, “and we mark the neck of our chosen mate. The mark will never fade. It is a symbol of our eternal love and faithfulness, and, until recently, it served as a warning to every other Alpha that this omega will be off-limits to all from now on.

Or should be, anyway.

And a bond is formed between the mates, it is not understood whether it is chemical, physical or even a mental connection but once mated, it’s… it’s hard to explain to you, Dean: it can _only_ happen between Alphas and omegas. But Dean’s scent, _my_ Dean’s scent, although strong and extremely arousing before, once the bond was made it became the _only_ scent that mattered!”

Sam turned and paced away from Dean for a moment, then paced back.

“Whereas before I was of course aware of him: his scent is amazing by the way; just like yours but much enhanced, the most erotic, arousing cologne that there ever could be, I knew he was mine from _years_ before I claimed him…but as soon as the bond was formed…”

Sam paused, trying to find the words to explain it to the human and then knelt so he could look openly straight up into the other’s face: “I know when and where he is in a room, no matter how many others there are in there. I know if he’s upset, I know when he’s worried or afraid, or feeling mischievous. I know when he wants me to just bring him home and knot him senseless here in this bed and…” He stopped speaking suddenly as Dean all but choked. “Too much information?”

“ _Yeah!_ ”

Sam nodded, and smiled suddenly, a wide, open, dimpled smile that caused Dean’s heart to ache.

“And, if he’s upset, my scent will immediately soothe him, and to know that he needs me as much as I need him is… incredible, Dean. Because I do _need_ him.

I need him in my arms at night, need to feel and sense him slicking just for me, need to give him everything in his heats even though it is _exhausting_ : he has so much stamina and demands so much! I need his smile.” He paused. ”Dean keeps me sane, and focused: he keeps me striving to provide for him, to be the best Alpha for him that I ever can be, and he _deserves_ the best. I know I didn’t give him the choice when I claimed him, but I want to be everything good for him. I would hate for him _ever_ to regret what I did….”

“What _did_ you do?” They were both now back on their feet, Sam leaning over Dean where he stood, and the human trying to sidle sideways out of the way. Being trapped by the son earlier had been unnerving enough, but he _knew_ how strong both Sams were.

“You head for the window as a possibility of escape? So did he, all those years ago.”

“What?”

And in that moment of hesitation it was too late: Sam was on him and held him bodily against the wall before Dean could react. He tried to push him off or kick out, but Sam just caught both his hands in one of his larger ones and forced Dean’s arms above his head. And his legs were pushing the smaller man’s ones apart, nearly causing him to fall, but he had nowhere to go except more into the arms of the being holding him upright between himself and the unyielding wall.

Sam leant down and scented his neck with his nose, mimicking his son’s recent action, breathing Dean’s muted scent in with a deep inhale. “Samuel is right. You have nearly the exact aroma of my brother, it is so close that it feels me with the same needs as I have with him. Indeed I desire to taste you very, very much.”

“Wait! _Brother?_ You’re telling me the Dean in this world is your _brother_ as well? How can he be your _mate_ then? I….” Dean swore out loud as he felt Sam’s tongue lick down his neck and tried ineffectually to struggle free. The larger man continued unperturbed and with no sign that he had even noticed.

“But there is something extra. You have a muskiness that hums at the back of my throat. And it is really _arousing_ : incredibly desirable. The same, but subtly different from _my_ Dean’s: distinctly and uniquely _you_. And getting clearer with every breath I am with you, every moment I can focus more on it. Samuel noticed it immediately, far faster than me. You are not an exact copy: I wonder what other differences there are...”

“Well you can fucking well _stop_ wondering! I’m not an omega! Or your mate!”

Sam chuckled at the attempt at a snarl from the human, but released his hands. Although he didn’t try and move back in any way, so Dean found he was still trapped between a Sam and a hard place.

“I am trying to explain to you, human Dean. I was fourteen when I presented: that first rut, just like the first heat for an omega, comes out of the blue and is _far_ too intense to be bearable. It is almost impossible to be rational during it. I was out of my head with the need to mate, and my only coherent thought was to head straight towards what I had always wanted, and I _had_ always wanted him: my beautiful, _beautiful_ omega brother Dean, your almost exact lookalike. I had desired him since the moment he had presented.”

He made sure Dean was looking straight at him for his next words. “He did not corrupt me, but like you, he was worried that he had. It was, actually, the complete opposite, Dean.” Sam sighed and looked down at the plush carpet. “I gave him no choice but to accept me: he tried to escape through the window just like you had the intention of but even at the age of fourteen, my suddenly presenting Alpha strength took him by surprise. I held him against the wall, mated him and claimed him as mine.”

Dean stopped struggling abruptly and instead stared up at him: the anger in the human’s eyes shook the Alpha momentarily.

“Are you telling me you _raped_ your brother? You _raped_ the other Dean?”

“To all intents and purposes, yes.” He tried to answer calmly, but he couldn’t deny the small spark of shame that he had always tried to bury deep within him. “But that is how it is here. Omegas are to be claimed, Dean: the natural call to mate is as strong in them as it is in Alphas. And they are desired as well as being extremely desirable. I can _never_ let my guard down when Dean is out with me, in case another Alpha decides to dishonour the sanctity of the claiming mark.”

“The one you _forced_ on him?” Dean was angry, angrier than he ever thought he could be.

“Yes, I forced it on him. But had it not been me, it would have been another Alpha, Dean. He, _my_ Dean, would not have been safe: you have already seen what it’s like here. He _was_ not safe. Dad tried to keep him hidden once he had presented: all Dean’s life had been was to go from the car to whichever motel to the car for the last four or five years before I presented, _despite_ the suppressants dad had got for him to mask his scent. He just couldn’t take the risk of Dean being snatched.”

He moved away from Dean suddenly and stalked back to the bed to sit on the mattress, leaving the human standing where he had been held beside the wall.

“So yes, I forced him to mate with me. And I was selfish, I know. But I do desperately love him and I always will. And I have done my best to make him happy, Dean. I _think_ he is happy: he seems to be.”

“Why don’t you _ask_ him?”

Sam nodded. “I should. But...”

“What if he’s not?”

This time Sam looked down at the floor without any response for a moment. “I’m just trying to explain what it is like here, Dean. You must stay with me when you go out. Whether you like it or not, you smell like an omega. No matter how weak it is, it is still the scent of one. And you are male. And have no claim mark. And male omegas are very, very desirable as they are usually extremely fertile. You saw the reaction earlier to you: this is not a safe world that you have arrived in! Not for something like you.”

“You mean we’re good for breeding?”

Sam winced at the scorn in the human’s voice, but nodded. “Please be careful here, Dean. I want my mate back, but I also do not want you to get hurt. And you could easily, if you will not listen to me.”

Dean stood with his back to the wall and glowered at him. “What did dad think? When you ‘claimed’ your brother?”

Sam stared at the floor again. “He was furious with me. Really angry, but he could do nothing about it. He could have claimed Dean himself but he hadn’t out of respect for him, so when I... Anyway, he kicked me out. I never got the chance to try and put it right... I regret that very much. And Dean of course had to come with me as he was now mine.

And then his next due heat never arrived and we realised that he was already pregnant from that first mating. Apparently an omega is fertile for a couple of weeks before and after the main few days of the heat as well, although a conception then is rare but, as _we_ proved, not impossible!

We moved into Uncle Bobby’s while I finished school, and Dean gave birth to Samuel. They then stayed there while I went to College: I was determined to give him a good life, Dean. I worked hard, came home regularly and to see him through his heats. I wanted to be the best for him and our son.”

“Why didn’t you take him with you to College?”

“Do you understand _anything_ of what I’ve been telling you?” Sam glared at him. “An omega? A stunningly beautiful _male_ omega? Alone during the day with nobody watching out for him? You’ve seen what it’s like out there and it’s getting worse! Even my _neighbour_ for God’s sake…

No. It was far safer for him out at Bobby’s. And he helped with the cars: he’s really good at mending cars is my Dean. He and Samuel were much better being there, Dean.”

“And after College?”

“I got a job in a law firm. Moved here with Dean and our son. Made friends with other couples so that Dean can go out with them and feel he’s safe. Or safer anyway. We’d taken precautions while I was still learning: we didn’t want to impose on Bobby too much! But once I was earning, we could try for another child. And then a third.

He is happy, Dean. He is. I know he is.”

‘Which of us are you trying to convince?’ Dean thought. But he didn’t say it out loud.

Sam stood up and approached him again, sighing as Dean’s body instinctively tensed once more. The younger but larger man reached to take his hand and began to pull Dean towards him. “Please, Dean. I know you don’t like this but you must listen. When we are outside, or in company, you must be touching me: holding my arm, hand, anywhere, Omegas are naturally very tactile, and my Dean incredibly so. He gets nervous if he is left alone anywhere that he does not feel safe. And to be honest, _here_ is the only place that he really does, inside these four walls.

It can be very dangerous for omegas, Dean. Seriously. Please believe me when I say I am trying to look out for you.”

By this time he was leading Dean back to the bed, holding him gently but firmly enough that the man couldn’t break his grip and was in no doubt of where they were going. “You expecting me to sleep with you as your ‘mate’ isn’t here to serve?”

“No, Dean! No! I know I said I would sleep downstairs, but on thinking it through, it would be sensible for you to cover yourself with my scent: you will find it easier to walk around outside.” He ignored the other’s disdainful snort. “It would certainly attract less unwanted attention.”

“And how exactly do I do that?”

“Lie with me. In my arms so you pick up as much of my scent as possible. Believe me, anyone intrigued enough to wonder why you have such a faint one will become interested _very_ quickly if they realise there is the _faintest_ hint of unclaimed omega and I am not there to protect you….”

“Are you serious!” He had Dean beside the bed now, but there was no way that the human was laying on it without a fight. “You get your goddam hands off me!”

He was struggling now, trying to break Sam’s firm grasp around his hand, but there was no way the other was going to let go. So instead he kicked out as hard as he could, hurting his own socked feet as he did, but to no avail. But as he began to try and swing his free fist, he was instead suddenly caught up in Sam’s long muscled arms and picked up bodily to be put down roughly on his back on the bed, with the being that looked like his brother immediately following him down until he was lying fully on top of Dean, with his legs between the older man’s spread ones, and his hands tight around Dean’s wrists, holding him down.

“Now, I can sleep like this and you will definitely pick up my scent, although it will be extremely uncomfortable for you. Or you can stop being ridiculous and just lie next to me in a civilised manner, and we can both get some sleep!”

“Third option! You get the fuck out!”

Sam considered for a minute, staring straight down into Dean’s eyes. “Third option,” he conceded. “ _You_ get out! This is _my_ home and _my_ bed. And you have somehow taken my mate from me, so why should I _care_ what happens to you here? Go on, _you_ get out! Go and see what I have been trying to protect you from!”

And with that he was rolling off Dean and away from him to instead get under the covers of the bed, even as the human sprang to his feet and escaped to stand once more by the wall.

Sam reached to the bedside light switch and plunged the room into sudden darkness. “I am tired, Dean, and I am worried about my mate, and I miss him very much. So, _you_ decide, stay here safe with me or go. I won’t force you in either.” And he was turning away from Dean and settling down to try and get some sleep.

He lay in the darkness for a long moment, although he could see almost as clearly in it as he could in the day. He was worried that he would have to tie the stubborn human down, as there was no _way_ he was going to let Dean walk out of that door and into the world that would be so dangerous for him. It came as a huge rush of relief when he felt the mattress dip behind him and Dean carefully slid beneath the covers beside him, although trying not to touch him physically in any way.

They lay like that for a long moment, then Sam was having none of it, and instead turned to wrap his arms around the smaller man and pull him closer to him, ignoring the tenseness of his body and his grumbles until Dean was laying with his head against Sam’s chest and the Alpha could nuzzle his nose into the top of the human’s soft short hair to breathe in as much of the scent that he missed so much as he could.

It wasn’t _his_ Dean, but it would have to do.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam was having an erotic dream.

And the star of his dream was his brother.

Which even in his dream he was finding disconcerting.

And somehow more aroused than he had ever been in his life.

In his dream he had an orgasm that had him gasping for breath. He woke up gasping for breath. His heart was pounding, his entire body felt shaky and limp, he was panting to get air into his lungs, he felt shivery and ecstatic all at once.

And then he realised that it hadn’t just been a dream. The fingers of both his hands were tangled in short, soft hair and his achingly hard cock was pulsing and emptying down his brother’s throat. _Right_ down Dean’s throat where the whole entirety of his long length was buried, in the most amazing, moist heavenly warmth that he had ever felt in his life.

“Oh God!” It was all he could say. He couldn’t believe what had just happened: he knew he should feel ashamed….disgusted…..but “Oh _God!_ ”

From beneath the covers he heard an anxious if somewhat muffled voice. “Is that okay? That’s how _my_ Sam loves to be woken in the morning, I’m sorry if you didn’t like it.”

“Oh my God, yes! Oh God! Fuck, yes!” His heart was still thumping so hard as if to escape his chest, but now he managed to get enough control over himself to tighten his hands into the hair and start to pull Dean away from his now limp cock and up to lie on top of him. The smaller man was hesitant, but obeyed, allowing himself to be held in Sam’s arms but arching his back in order to be leant up on his elbows enough to look down at him.

“Are you sure you didn’t mind? I was enjoying your scent when I got carried away. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Oh God, you didn’t! I… You shouldn’t have…. But thankyou! That was _incredible!_ ” And Sam was blushing, he could feel his face _burning_ but Dean was just looking at him without….any lust at all. He was anxious that he had pleased Sam, and happy that he had, but the younger man could see that it had meant nothing to him personally as an intimate act. Nowhere near as much as it meant to _Sam_.

“You’re welcome.” And Dean settled so that his nose was again buried into the larger man’s neck. They were silent for a long moment. “I can feel your heart: it’s beating right through my body as well.”

Sam nodded, and without realising adjusted his hands so he could stroke Dean’s hair as he held him. “It’s because you did….that! That was… You didn’t have to, you _shouldn’t_ have, I mean, but….wow!” The older man snorted a little but relaxed fully in his arms, enjoying his touch and scent.

Sam hugged him tighter: it didn’t even feel weird to. He knew it should, but somehow having his brother lying on top of him in this manner felt _right_. There was a long silence while he tried to forget that the other had just given him the best blowjob he had ever had, and tried not to immediately get hard in the hope of receiving another.

Eventually Sam managed to concentrate his thoughts onto both their main concern: “So, where do you think we should start today? City Hall or the museum? Find out more about the building and its origins? Or try and find out what the stone is?”

Dean considered. “The building exists in both our realities. If it were something to do with that, then it would have been you and my Sam taken as well. But it wasn’t: it was just the two of us Deans! I touched the glowing stone, and you say he did as well. And it must have been exactly the same time in both of our dimensions. So it would be sensible to start with that. Was the other half of it still in the cellar? I was too freaked out yesterday to look.”

“I don’t know.” Sam hadn’t thought to search for it either. “You say it was originally twice the size of the piece you have, and it began to glow?”

“Yes. But you…I mean _my_ Sam, he couldn’t see it.”

“Neither could I. I wondered what Dean was on about when he walked across to see what it was. I couldn’t see anything at all. But you could. And _he_ could. But now you’ve got half of whatever it was. So where’s the rest? Does he have it? Have we got to get you somehow to put it together again through the dimension wall? Or is it in that building still…?

You’re right, that’s where we’re going to start looking! And, if we can pick up the trail of the creature we were hunting in there as well, that would be useful as well.”

He carefully slid out from beneath Dean and clambered clumsily out of the bed, his whole body still feeling shaky from the incredible act that had been used to wake him up. “Showers and breakfast. I’m sure Dean won’t mind you borrowing any of his stuff, well, except the porn!”

He smiled as the other’s eyebrows rose in confusion. “Do you have porn where you come from?”

“Oh yes.” Disgust showed in Dean’s eyes. “Unclaimed omegas of both genders, deliberately dosed up to keep them in permanent heat, ready to do anything just to try and ease the madness.” He shuddered. “And _your_ Dean enjoys people being treated like this?”

“No! Not like you just described! I…er…I’ll show you his magazines. But the models in them are all willing….I…er…Let’s go and get some coffee first!”

 

 *         *         *         *         *          *         *         *         *

 

Dean stirred. He had actually slept extremely well once he had got over the revulsion of being in bed with what was not only a man, but also one that was the image of his little brother. But the bed was soft and he was exhausted, or so he told himself. Whatever: he had managed to sleep, which at least was a win.

He yawned and tried to stretch, his eyes flying open as he realised that he was _still_ being held tightly in a strong pair of arms. He was startled to immediately meet Sam’s gentle eyes: the larger man was lying lazily watching him sleep. Dean felt himself instantly tense up but he tried to force himself to remain calm. ”Enjoying the view?”

“Very much.” The other wasn’t in the least perturbed by his aggressiveness. “It is quite incredible that there could be another being as beautiful as my Dean, but here you are! We just have to keep you safe and swap you back: which I’ll be honest, I have no idea where to start.”

Dean grunted: “Start at the beginning. Have another look at that cellar; that building if we have to! Find out what it is, what it was.If anyone else has gone missing from it. Any strange occurrences connected with it. Take it from there.”

“It sounds like you have done this before.”

“It’s my job. What we do: Sam and me. Track down the weird and nasty, and stop them both. That’s why we were in that cellar: we had chased a were into that building and were looking for it. Why were _you_ there?”

Sam sighed. “It’s part of the case I’m building up: the biggest of my career so far! We’re going after a big mob boss: if we nail him, it will help me in my bid to be assistant D.A. Two of his… em…. competitors were found dead in that cellar. Brutally killed.”

He released Dean and sat up, looking serious as well as sad. “I just wanted to check it out. Thought I might…well, I thought I might spot something the police missed. Dean, _my_ Dean, didn’t want to come with me: I meant it when I said it’s not a safe world for omegas, he’d far rather be at home. But his sense of smell and his eyesight is amazing. Far better than mine. And he’s smart, much smarter than he’ll admit. I just wanted to see if he picked up on something.”

His head drooped down, Dean could hear the sorrow in his voice. “I wish I hadn’t made him come with me. Then this would never have happened.”

Despite himself Dean also sat up on the bed behind him and put his hands up on the wide shoulders. “Hey, if there’s one thing I _am_ an expert in, it’s wishing that things had never happened. And if there’s one thing I _know_ , is that it don’t do squat! All you can do is deal, and try to do whatever it takes to put it right… We’ll get your Dean back for you. I promised your kids I would!”He felt Sam snort a little and relax beneath his touch. “And I’m promising _you_ as well: we’ll put this right. We’ve just got to work out how.”

Then Sam was reaching up to catch at his hands and pulling him forwards until Dean’s chest was pressed close to his back. And Sam was kissing the knuckles on each of his hands gently. “Thanks, Dean.”

With a genuine sigh he released the smaller man and stretched out his long arms and back. “Don’t shower this morning: you need as much of my scent on you as you can. And I’m sure my Dean won’t mind you borrowing his clothes. You’re right: we start with that building. Just as soon as we've taken the children to school!”

 

     *         *        *         *         *        *        *        *

 

It had been a strange car journey back to Kansas City and late afternoon by the time they got there. The previous day, Dean, the _new_ Dean, had huddled in the corner in the back of the car, scared of Sam and afraid of everything else as well. Now he sat up next to him, close enough to have his hand permanently glued to Sam’s arm, which meant that Sam felt he should drive mostly with his left hand and try to ignore the temptation to simply _hold_ his brother’s hand.

And Dean was looking around at the outside world now, trying to make sense of it all. Especially the people. Sam was aware of his interest in _everyone_.

He had studied the other Dean’s porn magazines while he was eating breakfast, which to Sam’s surprise had consisted of the last two fresh oranges he had in the bunker and nothing else but a mug of strong black, unsweetened coffee: exactly the same way as _his_ Dean drank it. And exactly the same as his Dean, he had turned up his nose when offered the concoction with teaspoons of sugar and cream that Sam drank. The similarities and differences were amazing.

But he had studied the magazines with interest. “So, _your_ Dean? He only likes female forms? Or does he like males as well?”

Sam had nearly choked on his cereal, he was so amused. “No. He’s strictly for the ladies! But they pose in those magazines willingly: they’re not forced or drugged.”

“Oh, I can see: they’re all just female betas. No heat madness in any of these pages! That’s good. Safer.”

“Safer?”

“Much.”

And that was all he would say on the matter. But Sam was aware of his bro...this Dean’s hand gently touching the back of his denims as they climbed the short staircase to leave the bunker, and he was aware of the short, self-controlling deep breath taken as Dean exited out into the world beyond the steel door. And he was aware of Dean’s hand creeping near enough to brush against his own as he had stood and looked around at the trees and the space, and the fresh air.

And now he sat and watched the people in the streets as they drove through Kansas City. Watched the workmen digging their great big holes in the ground, and the business men and women in suits hurrying to their last meetings of the day, and the policemen on patrol, and the mothers taking their children to the park or to pick their elder siblings up after school or daycare, and the old women pulling along their trolleys loaded with the cheapest cans of produce from the supermart, and the short-skirted, bare-legged hookers that were always around on a big city street, even in daylight albeit in the shadows.

“So do you think _they_ also pose in Dean’s magazines?” His hand tightened around Sam’s arm as one looked as she might come over to the Impala.

Sam tried to ignore it _and_ her, and willed the traffic lights to change. “Possibly. Anything to get money.”

“And they are all female?”

Sam turned at the question in his voice and noticed who Dean was looking at now. Again he tried to control his amusement. “No… er. That’s one a transvestite. A man who likes to dress as a woman.”

“But he can’t have children?”

“He can’t conceive and give birth to one, no. No man here can.”

“Then why…?”

He was answered with a big sigh: “ _I_ don’t know.”

Sam risked a glance at the heavily made-up, high-heeled man and gratefully pulled across the junction. “It’s two more blocks. I’ll get as close as I can to it, but I don’t want to start attracting attention either. Whatever happened in that basement yesterday, I don’t want any repeats with anyone else, so we might have to walk a little. Just stay close to me if we do, okay?”

“Okay.”

But the alley looked clear enough as Sam drew up near some trashcans. He got out of his door and began to shut it, only to open it again in a hurry as Dean had slid across the seat and was following him out of the driver’s side.

“What was wrong with _your_ door?!”

But he sighed as he noticed Dean’s face: it was as pale and anxious as it had been the day before. _This_ Dean did _not_ like being outside. Especially where there were a lot of people. And Sam couldn’t help but wonder why. And hope with all his heart that his brother was alright.

“Come on. _Not_ holding hands!” as the other reached instinctively.

Dean looked abashed: “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Just...stay close to me.”

Sam un-holstered his gun from the back of his jeans in case, picked the lock and in they went to the deserted empty building. Carefully he pushed the door to and stood reaching into his pocket for his flashlight. But to his surprise, Dean was already moving across the gloom of the ground floor without any hesitation, completely unhampered by the near darkness of the boarded up windows, the stone already held out expectantly in his hand, waiting for it to do something.

“Hey?” It was a question, rather than a shout. Then Sam again noticed Dean’s eyes seem to glow as he turned in response: cat’s eyes, wolves’ eyes? Not human eyes. What else about him wasn’t human?

“At least the building in this world doesn’t stink of death! There’s no one here: our scents from yesterday are still clear. Nobody else has been in since. The packing area was this way.” And he was turning to lead the way.

“Yeah, okay.” Sam put his gun away and hurried to follow, falling over an old bucket and a couple of fast-food containers as he did. The noise echoed loud in the vast empty space.

“You alright?” And Dean was somehow there helping him up, although he had been almost halfway across the room already. “Hold on to me.”

And he led Sam through the ground floor to the door of the basement area, with Sam holding _his_ arm for guidance through the almost complete gloom of the large area only occasionally dissected by a stray shaft of light managing to sneak through between the boards in the windows. It only took a few minutes before they were at the doorway that led down the steps.

Here Dean paused and inhaled only briefly before moving to descend. Sam’s fingers tightened in their hold on him. “Careful. Let me go first in case.”

“There’s nobody down there, Sam.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

He felt abashed at the glare that the other gave him even in the near-darkness: it was an expression straight from his real brother’s amazing repertoire and told him without the need for any words at all that he was a total moron for even daring to doubt him. The younger man sensibly decided to remain silent but alert, and followed Dean down the steps, feeling slightly silly for still needing his flashlight, as, even though the large lift-able door was still wide open from where Sam had left it, the cellar was hardly lit.

As his brother had told him, it was completely empty. Sam was stubborn enough not to want to make any comment about his correctness, and felt suitably irritated by the look of triumph that was directed his way. “Yeah, yeah. Well, _that_ thing’s not doing anything! Anything else worth us being here?”

Dean smirked but it faded a little as he also glanced at the stone still in his hand. Nothing. His disappointment showed in his drooping shoulders as he turned away. Sam itched to put his hands around them in consolement, but forced himself to watch his silhouette as he took a deep inhale and began to follow a slight scent.

Straight across to the dais that the other Dean had been stood on the previous day. But unlike the other Dean, this one simply jumped up onto the raised platform in one easy bound without the need for using the steps.

Sam’s eyebrows rose and he silently padded across to measure the height of the platform against himself. It was higher than he stood by more than quite a few inches and, even though a little piece of his brain wondered how many workers had fallen from it during the last century or so of use, the majority of it focused to remind himself that he was not with a human, however like his brother it looked. But by now, this Dean was following a trail and had moved to open the small access door, ignoring the wide open space beside it.

“ _Your_ Dean stood here: his scent, although now well muted, is still recognisable in the room. And there was something else: something recent that has left its musk on this handle. But not a being of your species: I can smell _beta!_ Definite _beta!_ ”

“We think it was a werewolf we were chasing. That’s why we were here yesterday. There’s been two brutal attacks, both fatal. But they were both in broad daylight, which is _very_ un-were-like!”

“They do not like daylight?”

“They shouldn’t be able to _exist_ in daylight! Not in their monster form: it needs moonlight to bring that nastiness out.”

“Our Lady Moon would _never_ allow a monster to exist beneath her pure and blessed light: that is when we worship and give thanks for her sereneness. This is such a _strange_ world.”

Sam silently seconded the thought. He continued to watch until Dean actually headed through the door to the deserted courtyard outside and then hastened up the steps to join him. “Any ideas where it went after?”

Dean breathed in deeply and followed the last traces of the scent across to an old fire escape in one corner of the building. Sam glanced at it: the old wooden ladders were rotten and dangerous, the base had already mostly fallen apart from the creeping damp of the previous decades of winter after winter. He sighed: the trail had led nowhere useful.

Then to his amazement and consternation, Dean had once more, and again unnaturally impossible for a human, jumped straight up from where he had just been standing. He landed lightly and leapt again immediately, working his way upwards right over the mouldy, green, unusable even as firewood pieces until he had alighted on the slightly firmer, but still dangerous, level ‘landing’section where the next set of steps ascended from and up from then in a zig-zagging effect to the top of the building.

“Dean!” he hissed in alarm, as his brother….being that looked like him, but soooo wasn’t…. headed up the stairs without a backwards glance and an incredibly sure step on the slippery and slimy surface. He desperately looked round to try and get up to join him….what if the smaller man fell?...but there was no way that he could get up on to even the lowest section of the wooden steps without it collapsing into just so many large, rotten splinters. “ _Dean!_ Get here!”

But he was ignored as the other was already nearing the top storey of the old building and then to Sam’s horror, he was jumping again, right from the top level of the fire escape and up on to the sloped roof of the old building where he disappeared completely from view. Sam swore: he didn’t know whether to return into the building to try and find a way up inside, or just wait there in case.

For what, he didn’t know.

To his own horror he felt almost like crying when there was a noise above and Dean was reappearing on the old steps, working his way back down them as sure-footed as he had ascended. To Sam it seemed to be an age before he was jumping down off the last section and was safely on the stone-paved ground once more, although the two of them had actually only been separated for a matter of minutes.

He grinned innocently at Sam, a relaxed smile that was quickly switched off when the younger man all but knocked him to the ground and straddled his legs with his own to hold him down while his large hands held the other’s face in a tight grip. “What the _hell_ were you thinking? What if you had _fallen?_ ”

“What are you talking about? I was fine. It’s not that high. And I knew if a beta could get up there then _I_ certainly could: I’m _naturally_ much more agile.”

“But what if you _couldn’t?_ ”

“But of _course_ I could….” And his words were cut off as Sam suddenly captured his mouth with his own, kissing him with a desperation that took them both by surprise.

He stared up at the younger man as Sam released his lips with a blush that turned his face almost scarlet.“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that. It’s just I was so worried about you.”

He couldn’t bring himself to look at the other: what the hell was wrong was him? He had basically just kissed his brother! But then Dean leant forward and gently touched their lips together once more. “I’m sorry I worried you, Alpha. I didn’t mean to. I was just following the scent of the betas.”

“I….” Sam didn’t know what to say for a moment. Then: “ _Betas?_ Plural?”

“Yes, the scent of one went up the steps, but at the top there were two distinct ones. The other must have been waiting there: its scent was definitely stronger at the edge of the roof where it had been stopped. They both led across to the adjoining building, but the trail had been diluted too much by the wind for me to follow much further.”

“How much further _did_ you follow? You didn’t jump across to the next…?”

“It’s not far, Sam. Hardly counts as a leap.”

“Christ, Dean. What the…? How can you be so afraid of being where there are people and yet go jumping around buildings like that?” He was getting up and helping the other man up to his feet, trying to recover from his worry and his embarrassment.

But it was _him_ holding tight to _Dean’s_ hand as they returned to the inside of the cellar.

There was nothing else of interest in the interior. Sam could see their previous day’s footprints in the dust as well as the ones that they just made, as well as the clear area where whatever had happened had caused it to be all but blown away, but there was nothing of note in there.

Dean followed the _real_ Dean’s scent to the exact spot where he had vanished from and they both scoured every inch of the floor, Sam using the beam of his flashlight and Dean with his sharp eyesight, but to no avail.

There was no sign of the other half of the stone.


	6. Chapter 6

At least the internet worked the same.

Dean resisted the temptation to see what the porn sites in this strange other world were like and closed Samuel’s laptop down with a sigh, making a mental note to teach his nephew...son... was he any relative at all _really?_... how to properly secure his devices. The search on the history of the warehouse had yielded nothing: there had been no strange disappearances; no unusual occurrences; not even any fatal accidents recorded despite the tough working conditions that must have existed in the warehouse.

He wanted to go and check it out for himself, but... well, it would just have to wait. Circumstances had suddenly changed.

The two younger children had asked him to walk them to their school that morning, and Sam had agreed to let him as it would be a good test, although he had insisted on accompanying him. _And_ he had suddenly insisted on Dean wearing the other Dean’s used clothes from the day before that hadn’t been dry-cleaned yet, although the human had had the small satisfaction over winning the battle to keep his comfortable but hard-wearing boots.

Dean would hate to admit it even to himself but he had been grateful for his brother’s....thing that looked so much like his brother’s.... presence.

Well, at least he had been at first.

Dealing with victims and relatives of victims of horrific assaults and murders was easier than dealing with obsessive parents of young children. _Much_ easier. Especially as he was now supposed to _be_ one of the proud parents.

Little Mary-Anne had held his hand tightly and skipped all the way there: Sam had spoken to both her and the younger of the two boys that morning about how important it was to call Dean ‘mom’, and not to tell anyone the truth, despite how exciting they were finding it having a mother that wasn’t. But the incessant chatter that the child had managed to keep up since the instant they had left the house was making them both nervous.

Johnny had walked quietly the other side of him: Dean could see he was a deeply-thoughtful and intelligent child who reminded him incredibly of his real brother at that age. The moment they had reached the school he knelt and spoke to him quietly. “Any questions you got for me, I’ll try and answer them when you get home. But I’ve got to admit that I’m probably more confused than you! But I’ll try, okay?”

“Will mom be okay? No one will be _hurting_ him, will they?” He could barely hear the gentle whisper.

“He _should_ be with _my_ brother, _my_ Sam. As long as we were swapped, which so far I haven’t had any reason to presume different. And as long as he’s with _my_ Sam, then he’ll be safe. Sam will look after him, I guarantee it.”

The young man gave him a relieved smile, the dimples showing themselves for the first time. And then a sudden hug that nearly crushed Dean’s ribs before he was rushing off to greet his friends. The human struggled to his feet just as other parents began to cross to meet them. “Okay. Showtime.”

“Sam! It’s a long time since _you_ bothered to come to the school!” There were a couple of women coming towards them: one an incredibly showy blonde. And three or four others hanging back as if nervous, Dean noticed. Then Sam’s tight grip was on his right arm and he was being pulled slightly backwards until he stood a step behind the other. “Hand on me at all times!” the order was hissed.

Dean fought down the instinct to tell him to go to hell then was distracted by the little girl bouncing up and down with excitement next to him, still with his left hand in her death grip. Quickly he knelt to her. “Can I introduce you to my friends, De...”

“Mom!” He interrupted her. “And you promised, M-A. Not a word!”

“M-A! I _like_ that! Okay, I won’t say anything: I _promise!_ Love you!”

And she was nearly knocking him over with her hug and a whispered “send it to mommy,” then racing away, squealing with excitement as she joined some other little girls who were discussing the latest cell phones.

“Sounds expensive.” He commented, as he stood back up again.

“It is.” Sam sounded irritated about it. “When I think of how you and _I_ were brought up, making do with hand me downs and being dragged around all corners of the country, and now they all expect the latest of this and the next generation of that. Until of course, the _next_ one comes out....”

“Family life isn’t so peachy?”

“Shut up,” it was snarled at him. “Joely! Sara!” And he was moving to greet two of his friends, swinging his left hand back unobtrusively for Dean to take hold of. And squeezing the other’s hand aggressively almost to the point of painfulness, at the slight sigh with which it was reluctantly taken.

“Sam. Good to see you.” The blonde crushed him in a huge embrace then turned immediately towards Dean. “Oh Sam... What have you been doing to him? You’ve all but smothered his scent! It must have been some session to do that! I’m surprised he can still walk!”

Dean tried desperately to understand the conversation then suddenly realised. And blushed redder than he had ever done in his life. They were talking about him! About his sex life! Openly! And as if he wasn’t there! Worse: they didn’t care that he _was_ there! He stared down at his feet because he seriously couldn’t bring himself to look up at these two really obnoxious women.

And his brother.

“Although I can understand it. He is gorgeous. Seriously, if you ever want to sell him, Sam.”

Again the scent of anger pouring off the younger man. “And what about _Annie_ , Sara? How would _she_ feel about you talking like that?”

Dean risked a glance and noticed a smaller, very pretty woman standing further back who was just as red in the face as he was: she had obviously heard her mate’s obnoxious comments. But Sara wasn’t concerned in the slightest.

“Oh, you know I’m only joking, Sam. Nobody would dare try and take Dean from _you_ , but it is sensible for you to start accompanying him here. What with these strangers starting to hang around this last month or so.... he _is_ the only male omega here.”

“Strangers?” And Sam was straightening up, glancing at Dean, tightening his grip on his hand even more until the latter could swear he was going to feel the bones inside cracking at any moment. Carefully he tried to ease his fingers out from the death grip.

“I’m...er....I’m going to talk with Annie, if that’s okay, Sam?”

The other gave him a look of such absolute possessiveness.... and such extreme love.... mixed into one that Dean really wasn’t sure what to do or say next. Then Sam forced himself to relax and released his hand. “Stay where I can see you. I’ll be over in a minute. Tell me about these strangers.” He was turning back to the two women but without any semblance of friendliness this time. And Dean could still smell his anger, even as he hurried to cross to the other omega.

She was pretty, really pretty: petite, dark-eyes, long dark hair. _Great_ figure. Only early twenties. The type he would have tried to hit on in just about any other circumstance. Even as he crossed to her, Dean tried desperately to remind himself that she was a mother. And _he_ was. And they had both just taken their kids to school, so _behave_ yourself, Dean!

“Annie?”

She nodded, but still looked hesitantly over at the loud obnoxious woman still laughing loudly and overly-shrill with Sam. Who still wasn’t smiling. “I’m sure she didn’t mean that... I take it you heard?” He backtracked quickly.

“Unfortunately, yes she did.” Annie sighed. ”And with me only managing so far to have the one little girl, who is already showing all the signs of being just a beta....”

“She might still present. “ Dean tried desperately to remember what Sam had been telling him the night before. “What’s her scent like?”

“Well, _you_ should know, Dean! Lauren spends as much time at your house as she does ours! You know so far she’s only got that basic stagnant scent associated with betas. And it doesn’t get any stronger _ever_ , no matter what her emotion! No, Sara’s looking around alright. She’d love a nice fertile omega like you... she wants to have an Alpha son like your Samuel.”

“But she wouldn’t leave you?”

The woman’s eyes lowered. “I don’t know, Dean. I know she doesn’t love me like your Sam does you. She only managed to claim me because I was stupid enough to run from my father. Oh, Our Lady: how _could_ I have been so stupid?”

“It will be okay, Annie. I’m sure she loves you. In her way.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

What does he do now, Dean wondered? Was it okay to put his arms around another omega in public? Or was that frowned upon in this strange world where some of the population were living possessions? The quandary was resolved for him by Annie: “Dean... I could really do with a hug.”

“Is that okay? I don’t want to get to get you into any more trouble with Sara.”

“To hell with her.” And they were embracing suddenly with Annie reaching up on her toes to whisper in his ear: “I’m going to find out how to get in touch with the F.A.O: oh I know what you’re going to say, ’be careful, you might be getting mixed up with sex traffickers’, but I’m going to try, Dean! I’m not going to just be used and thrown away as if I’m a nothing!”

“Annie...”

But the conversation was interrupted by another couple of seemingly anxious women coming to join the hug in a mutual huddle in the playground. It seemed to be a thing that omegas did, which actually, Dean thought he could get used to! But then they were going again hastily, leaving just Dean and Annie as their two Alphas loudly approached.

Well, Sara was loud anyway. “Oh look, Sam! Don’t they look good together? Perhaps we could organise a night with them both? You and me? And the two of them? Wouldn’t that be great! Or if not, then perhaps I could just borrow Dean for a night and have a chance of _real_ action..?” This was said so that everyone still standing there could hear: Dean had never wanted to punch anyone so much in his whole life as the pretty and petite woman beside him once more flushed scarlet with embarrassment.

“I don’t think so!” Sam winced as the words angrily burst out of his ‘mate’! “I’ve got pretty high standards, despite what you think of me!”

Sara paused in her monopolisation and stared at him with even more appreciation: “Ooh, he _can_ get feisty! I always knew he could! Our Lady, I bet he’s good in bed: I bet you end up doing _all_ sorts of things just to keep him contented, Sam. If he ever gets too much for you, just let me know. And Dean?” As she reached for her mate’s hand and started to lead her away. “If ever you need a _real_ Alpha, you know where to find me.”

Dean’s retort was bitten down as Sam grabbed for his arm and squeezed it hard enough to cause pain, deliberately this time. “Enough!” he hissed. “You’re attracting far too much attention to yourself!”

“ _Me_ doing it! You all just stood there and completely embarrassed that poor woman and me by talking about us as if we were nothings! Worse than nothings: sex objects! That’s the sort of conversation I’d expect from a drunken night in a working men’s club, not out in a playground for God’s sake! What the hell _is_ this place?” And he was pulling away from Sam and turning to head back in the direction of his surrogate family’s house.

He was stopped by the taller man grabbing at the back of his neck and yanking him backwards so abruptly that he almost fell onto his knees. Sam leant over and down to him to snarl straight into his ear, sounding really irate. “You are _embarrassing_ me! Do you not realise what you are _doing_ : showing an _Alpha_ up in public! You are making it so that I will have to _punish_ you!”

“Oh yeah! You just try it, Sammy! You stood there and discussed having a foursome with that... _woman_... and her mate in front of everyone around! And you wonder why I’m upset!”

“I didn’t discuss it, Dean.”

“You didn’t stop it either, Sam! You didn’t stop her. Not even after seeing how upset Annie was getting! Not even when I was!” He was trying to calm down, to remember where he was, to remember what a strange world this was. And oh god, how he already hated it!”

“I understand that, Dean. But I’m still going to have to punish you: it isn’t... done.... to humiliate an Alpha in public. I have no _choice_.” He added desperately: his brother stared up at the anguish in his eyes. “I have no choice, Dean! Now come here.”

He straightened up and stepped back, holding out his left arm without a smile and at the same time, his right hand came up ready with an open-palmed slap. Dean watched him in silent anger, and complete disgust.

“You do _that?_ Speak about me like _that?_ And expect me to just come and get _beaten_ by you? For sticking up for myself and Annie? You just try it, little brother! You just _dare!_ ”

“Dean. I have no choice! If you misbehave in public you have to be brought into line!”

“Because it’s what’s _done_ here? And you think that makes it _right?_ ”

“Having trouble with your omega, Mr Winchester?”

Their stand-off was brought to an abrupt halt as a deep, educated voice cut through their argument. Both brothers turned to see a tall man: not as tall as Sam but about the same height as Dean; late forties, perhaps early fifties; clean-shaven; blue eyes; smile that didn’t even come _close_ to reaching them; well-cut tailored suit; hand-made shoes; expensive watch.

Behind him stood three other men, also in smart suits but going by their builds and demeanours they were obviously bodyguards. But then Dean was noticing Sam’s reaction: his brother was going pale, really pale. And nervous. And reaching out blindly, groping with his hand for Dean’s arm as if he had suddenly found himself standing alone in the dark.

Despite himself, Dean took his outstretched hand and was dragged forward suddenly and sharply to stand safely behind the protection of the taller man, Sam’s arm going around him in a backwards one-armed embrace of defence.

And this time Sam’s aroma wasn’t one of anger, but a definite one of fear.

“Mr Manolli? What are you doing here? How did you...?”

“Oh...I just thought we should meet, Mr Winchester. You _are_ the lawyer building a case against me after all: I just like to know who I’m up against. And you must be Dean?”

Even as Dean opened his mouth to respond, Sam was both interrupting and giving him a small backwards kick to the front of his calf in warning at the same time. “Yes. But how did you know?”

“Like I said: I like to know who I’m up against.” The more mature man began to walk unhurriedly around Sam: Dean glanced around them and suddenly realised that the interested audience that had gathered for their argument and his inevitable public humiliation, had vanished just as simultaneously. Then he went back to watching the newcomer.

Who was expressing just as much interest in _him_.

“Samuel Winchester: youngest Lead Attorney in the State of Missouri and looking to be the latest Assistant D A. _If_ this case goes well of course: the publicity will be immense. Happily mated with three children. To a male omega, no less!”

He by now had completed his excursion around Sam and was standing behind him, studying every inch of Dean with his eyes. Eyes that were glinting with lust.

“But the reports my men have been sending about your mate didn’t do justice to just how _stunning_ he is. Nor how stubborn. And _brave_. He stood up for himself when you didn’t. I like that.”

He stepped closer until he was staring straight into Dean’s eyes. “Green. The images didn’t show them clearly, but...just beautiful. I think you would definitely be a challenge, omega. And I like _that_ as well.”

Sam was stepping around his brother then, his arm tightening even more around Dean’s waist as if he would pull the other right inside the protection of his own body if he could, anger finally breaking through his nervousness. “He’s not for sale! He never _will_ be!”

“I wasn’t offering to _buy_ him, Mr Winchester.” Finally the man was stepping away, accompanied by his men. Then he paused momentarily. “But everyone has their price: it’s just a question of working out just what that tipping point might be. Goodbye for now, Mr Winchester...

.... Dean.”

The latter name was said with a smile but there was an underlying unpleasantness in the tone.

There was no doubt about the threat in how Sam’s name was said.

So now Dean was stuck in the house waiting for Sam to return from work.

They had returned at _Sam’s_ pace that morning the moment Mr Manolli was out of view, which meant the larger man had literally dragged his protesting and stumbling brother by his arm the two blocks home, and all but thrown him inside through the open door. “They’re _watching_ us! Sara said the men at the school have been there for a couple of months: that’s about when I first took on this case! I can’t believe this: he’s been _watching_ us! That bastard! If he tries to hurt our _kids!_ You stay here!

I _mean_ it, Dean!” As his brother had once more got to his feet and looked like he was going to protest. “You’re to stay here, safe inside. I can’t risk you being hurt. Or worse! _I_ saw the way he looked at you! I’ve got to go and tell my office that I’m withdrawing from this case. I’ll pick the children up this afternoon in the car: I’ll call Samuel and tell him to wait for me at his school... I can’t do this case, not if it’s putting you all at risk!”

“I take it that was this mob boss you mentioned? If you give up, Sam, he’ll win. He’ll just carry on threatening and killing and carrying on. Unless you can stop him: unless you can put him away.”

“He’s threatening our children, Dean! I didn’t sign up for that!” He scrubbed his hands through his long hair in desperation.

“You know, Sam. If you really want to be D.A., then you’ll have no choice but to get that cut!”

The younger man stared at him incredulously: “How can you _joke?_ How can you be so...? I did this to try and _help_ people! I can _save_ them, Dean! If I can just take men like this down, I can _save_ them! But not if it’s risking all of _you!_ ”

Despite himself Dean had to wryly chuckle. “I’ve heard _my_ Sam say nearly those exact same words! And how many tens of thousands of people paid for _that_ with their lives?” He shook himself out of his saddest memories: “The point is, Sam: you can’t give up. This man wouldn’t be approaching you like he did if he’s not getting worried that you have a chance of winning the case. That’s the job you took on, so you have to see it through, Sam. You _have_ to.”

“But he’s threatened _you!_ ” There were tears threatening in the soft hazel eyes.

“He’s threatened the other Dean, yes. But he don’t know _me_ , Sam. I may not understand this world at all, but there ain’t _no_ way he’s hurting those kids. Not while I’m here.”

“But...”

“He ain’t _touching_ those kids, Sam. You just get on and do your job. Make it count, okay?”

Sam had nodded numbly and obeyed, stumbling a little in shock as he left the house.

In which Dean was now stuck waiting.

He resisted the temptation to ‘browse’ the internet.

He resisted the urge to steal a car and return to the building where this had all started to search it. Because if he did, and whatever had happened to bring him here...suddenly took him back again, then this family would be left helpless.

Sam and these children would be left helpless.

The Sam of this world might be strong, super-intelligent and completely up-himself, but he didn’t know how to _fight_. He hadn’t been taught _how_ to. Not like Dean had. Not like he knew he _would_ if it came to it.

Dean crossed quietly to the window and drew back the blind, just enough to risk a glance outside. He had half noticed the black car outside as it had followed them back from the building with the cellar the evening before, but _only_ half noticed it.

But now, as he watched it suddenly pull away and disappear from view, just before Sam’s modern car with the three children all safely inside appeared around the corner to draw up on the driveway, and the nondescript car that had been travelling immediately behind the family park inconspicuously a short distance across and further down the road ready for its two occupants to take up _their_ surveillance of the family’s house... he sighed.

He wasn’t going to be going anywhere soon.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam sat on one of the small leather couches and couldn’t remember when he had last eaten such a good meal. His _real_ brother had often surprised him by proving to be an extremely good cook and it was obviously a talent that he shared with his look-alike.

The new Dean had asked if they could pick up food supplies as they had returned home that evening as every single cupboard in the bunker seemed to be empty of anything remotely edible and Sam had happily agreed, on condition Dean came into the store with him.

And to his surprise his brother had.

Although it had probably been more to do with the fact that there had been only two other customers in the shop at that time of night, and he had never allowed Sam to get more than a single Dean-sized pace away from him, and, although Sam had expressively forbidden his brother to hold his hand in public, he was perpetually aware of Dean’s constant touch against his arm; his back; his shoulder; his waist as his brother’s fingers slid covertly beneath Sam’s jacket and shirt (which caused Sam to suddenly feel very, very warm and to break out in a slight sweat); against his face as the smaller man reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes for him and asked for his opinion on the freshest produce.

Which actually in _itself_ was amazing.

Because _this_ Dean wanted fresh greens, and fruit. And fresh salmon! And different sorts of flour - Sam had never realised there was more than two, but there was. And the rest of what would be needed for baking. And fresh rolls. And fresh juice in cartons. And bottled water.

And it was Sam who went for the six-pack of beer and the bottle of whisky, only to feel his face redden as Dean stared at him in genuine amazement. But he said nothing other than to take them from the younger man and put them in the small trolley. “Do you think we need anything else?”

“I don’t think we’ll starve.”

Then he sighed as Dean had all but backed into the tent of his larger body and tried to hide beneath his right bicep because the young female store assistant had tried to start an obviously flirtatious conversation with him. Sam could feel the slight tremors of fear travelling through Dean’s body against his and wondered just what sort of world the other came from, where any attention directed at him was such a source of genuine terror.

And he couldn’t help but worry about his brother and if he was safe.

In the end he had made himself deliberately put his arm around this Dean’s shoulder and nuzzled his lips against his cheek in a public show of affection, aware not only of the checkout girl’s wide-eyed expression, but wondering what the _real_ Dean would make of it when he returned, should he ever have cause to go into that store!

But at least his touch seemed to settle this Dean enough for Sam to hurriedly finish purchasing their items, hand him the smallest couple of bags and the car keys to hold while he scooped up the entire rest of their packed purchases in one long strong armful, before catching up his brother’s free hand openly with his larger one to lead him safely to the exit.

“You are angry with me?” Dean’s voice was quiet as he unlocked the car door for Sam to unburden himself of the produce. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“Huh? You didn’t! I’m not mad at you.”

“Your scent has changed slightly: you are giving off stress. I did not mean to cause that: I only wanted to be able to provide a decent meal for you, I’m no good at anything else. Please don’t leave me alone in this world.”

Sam dropped the bags in the back of the Impala and stood up straight to stare at him, realising with a slight shock that he had been wrong: Dean was still shaking a little and had obviously been biting anxiously at the inside of his bottom lip for the last few minutes.

“Oh Dean.” He stepped forward without even thinking about it to embrace the smaller man, crushing him slightly between the car and himself as he held him tightly against his own chest, purposely ignoring the gaping eyes of the cashier who was now watching the two handsome men openly through the shop glass. “I am certainly not angry at you. _Definitely_ not. And I am _never_ going to just abandon you! I’m going to work out how to get you home and how to get _my_ Dean back!

But I am _worried_ about him!” he released the other and moved to open the front door of the car. “You seem to be so terrified of where you come from, so... what might be happening to him there, Dean? Anyway,” he pulled at his brother’s hand to get him to climb into the Impala then followed him in as Dean slid across to the passenger’s side. “That’s why I’m probably a little stressed. But not at you, I mean that. And I will do my best to keep you safe, and to get you back to your children, okay?”

He had hoped to get some answers to his questions. Actually he was beginning to realise that he _needed_ to. But Dean was still pale and looking as if it wouldn’t take too much to reduce him to tears, so he kept quiet for the time being while they returned to the bunker.

But Sam determined to return to the subject later.

And it had been a nice evening: Sam had cleared and set the table while Dean bustled about preparing and baking a really delicious salmon in flaky pastry with a lemon butter sauce and green vegetables, and a fresh fruit salad for desert. And he hadn’t wanted Sam to help clear up but the younger man had insisted, making him sit down with a coffee while Sam both washed and dried. And it was strange, Sam reflected, how this sudden domesticity felt perfectly natural, just the two of them together.

As if that was how they _should_ be.

 

*           *            *            *            *             *           *           *

 

Dean sighed as he watched Sam: the larger man was all but slouching in his study chair. Since his return that afternoon, his brother had managed to keep an outwardly calm and normal appearance for the sake of his children, but Dean knew him better than anyone and could see how shaken he was about what had occurred earlier. And he had been really, really quiet since then, even through the family meal that Dean had cooked.

But now, as Dean watched him, he could tell how.... _brooding_....he was being over something else as well, and the human had the horrible feeling that it was to do with him and how he had openly disobeyed the Alpha in public.

Perhaps he should have just taken the beating.

No way in hell.

He became aware of Samuel approaching him, his eyes also turned to look into the room where his father was slumped in the leather chair. “We should be really worried about this man, shouldn’t we, Dean? Do you think he _would_ hurt my little brother and sister?” His voice was quiet, but worried.

“From what I saw of him, Sammy, yeah, without hesitation. He’s not someone you want to argue with. But that’s the job your dad took on, putting people like that away. And if there’s not someone brave like him to stand up and do it, then men like this just get worse and worse. There have got to be some restraints put on them: that’s just the way it is. So I’ll support your dad as best I can, and if that means looking after you three and keeping you safe, then that’s what I’ll do. And Samuel...?”

He finally turned to look at the boy, only to find he was standing staring straight at him. “I’d appreciate your support. We don’t need to frighten your brother and sister, but I would be grateful knowing that you’d be ready to follow whatever I ever tell you to. No matter how strange you might think it.... or me.”

The green eyes that so perfectly matched his own met his without giving away any emotion or expression at all, apart from a slight flaring of the nostrils as he inhaled. But then the boy nodded, just once, and broke his gaze to again turn back to the chair where Sam was sitting.

“It’s all over my school as well, how you defied dad earlier. Someone put it on the internet within minutes.”

“It got _filmed?!_ ”

“Oh yes, isn’t everything?”

“Crap, I really screwed up, huh?”

Dean felt his heart plummeting: no wonder Sam had hardly spoken two words to him since he had arrived home that afternoon.

“Omegas are supposed to behave, to just do as they’re told as if they’re _nothings_ , no matter what. No matter how humiliating.” Dean watched the boy’s lip curl in a snarl of derision. “And some Alphas _really_ get off on that: public punishment, often stripping them to beat them, hell, forcing an omega to have sex right out in public is common here. _They_ get off on it.

But not dad.

And not me.”

He turned to face the older man once more, meeting his eyes straight on. “I am proud of you for standing up for yourself today, Dean. Really proud. And all the kids who think they might be omegas are as well: it’s _all_ over the school. You gave them hope that they have a choice. But...” He again turned enough to glance into the study.

“You reckon I should apologise to your dad, huh?”

The boy shrugged, a lanky, lazy, long loose-limbed shrug, and wandered away without giving any more response. Dean turned his attention back to Sam and sighed.

He wasn’t sure how to go about it. His instinct was to go and stand in front of his brother, out of range of his long arms, but this was _this_ world, and _this_ Sam, and it would take more than that. A little part of Dean told him that he should perhaps kneel instead: well, fuck that. Or perhaps sneek in and give a surprise massage to his shoulders a little to try and relax him? Nah: too chick-flickie.

Before he could decide what to do, the two younger children were running at him, asking for their story that night. “Ok, I’ll be there in a few minutes: you both get yourselves ready for bed. I’ve just got to have a word with your dad, okay?”

“Is this about what happened at school?”

Dean winced at the straight question: “Yeah, a little. Did you see it?”

“Oh yes, we watched it over and over at break. But the teachers were excited about it as well: they were all whispering. Is daddy angry at you?”

“I’m not sure. I’m gonna go and find out.”

“If he’s mad at you, then you won’t be reading us a story.” The disappointment in Johnny’s voice was palpable.

“Why wont I?”

“Because dad will expect you to take his knot.”

“I....what?”

“ My friend Lee’s dad says it’s the only thing omegas are any good for, but you’ll find out, Dean. It’s what mom always has to do when dad is upset about something.”

“ _I’m_ gonna have a knot!” the little girl suddenly piped up! “Just like daddy! And an omega just like you of my very own, Dean!”

“Mary-Anne!” her brother admonished. “How can you possibly be saying that! You’re far too young to know!”

“I _know!_ My friends all tell me I have the hallmarks of one! I’m loud!”

“You’re certainly obnoxious!”

“And they say _you’re_ so quiet and int...inter...intro... well, _you’re_ definitely going to be an omega, Johnny.” The little girl wasn’t abashed in the slightest, in fact she was eager! “Perhaps I’ll claim _you_ , like dad took mom?”

“Whoa. _Whoa!_ ” Dean had the disconcerting impression that, of the three of them, himself and the two children, _he_ was the only one that didn’t fully understand this conversation. “And _nobody_ is going to claim _anybody_ , not without both parties consenting, you got that! Jesus, what _is_ this world! Look, just go and get ready for bed: I’ll come and read you both a story in a few minutes, okay. _Move!_ And brush your teeth!”

He stared after them as they ran off hand-in-hand, argument forgotten, and wondered what the hell exactly _was_ a knot? And how could a little _girl_ have one? But then he knew he couldn’t put off facing Sam any longer.

With a sigh, he wandered into the study and came to a halt to the left of the comfortable chair that his brother was sitting slumped in. “Sam...I.... Look, I know that I acted incorrectly this morning. I didn’t mean to embarrass you at the school: I just wanted to apologise. But I _did_ mean that when I said I will protect your kids with everything I have: I meant every word of that.”

There was no response. He wasn’t even sure Sam had heard him. With a sigh, Dean went to his knees beside the chair and moved to touch his brother’s hand gently: “Sam, I’m sorry. Please... I...” His words stalled, he didn’t know what to say... or do.

But then Sam was stirring in the chair and straightening up. He twisted slightly to stare at Dean, fixing him with a look of such _intensity_ , then slowly, gently, he reached out to run his long fingers down the human’s cheek, ensuring that they lingered against his lips.

In the next instant his whole upper body was following, leaning sideways over the leather armrest as his outstretched left hand extended even further to glide around the back of Dean’s head and pull forwards. “Sam? Wait!”

But his protest was cut off as his brother’s mouth was suddenly on his, and he was being kissed with a passion, and a desperately probing tongue, that he couldn’t quite escape no matter how hard he resisted. “Sam! I....!”

Dean fought down panic as he felt Sam’s right hand also touch his body, covering a good half of his chest in one open-fingered palm, then it’s grip was being tightened and he was being manhandled despite himself to move closer to the front of the chair, pulled to walk on his knees to try and stop himself from being toppled on to his face as Sam simply used his greater reach and strength to force him to move to where he wanted him.

Even as Dean tried still to struggle away, to his alarm he felt something touch across the front of his knees and realised that it was his brother’s large socked foot as Sam was sliding his entire body to the front of the chair and using all four of his long limbs to reach his target with. Then both his feet were hooking themselves around Dean’s waist and supplying the final act of unyielding propulsion that meant Dean ended up finding himself kneeling on his heels directly in front of Sam’s chair, without being given any choice whatsoever in the matter.

And the larger man had himself slid bodily down from the chair to sit with his weight fully on Dean’s lap, both legs now tightly wrapped around the human’s waist, almost taking his breath with the crush of the muscled thighs squeezing his torso. Similarly both of his arms were now held into his own body by his brother’s tight, _forcibly_ tight, embrace around them. The only movement he had was his head, and that again was being controlled by Sam’s long fingers wrapping themselves in his short hair and tugging downwards, not painfully but with the promise of being so if he didn’t concede, until Dean had no choice but to tip his head back and bare his neck to his brother.

He felt his breath catch as Sam hunched himself to bury his nose into the virgin flesh there and inhaled deeply and intently for several minutes. “Sam? I’m not...!”

“Mmmm. I know you’re not my Dean, Dean! But...oh, Our Lady.... your _scent!_ It _is_ his! I want him so badly! Need it so much. _Need_ him here.” He breathed in again, causing Dean to feel the suction against his neck, then to the human’s horror and discomfort, began to lick and nibble at his exposed skin. “You taste like him as well....Oh, I want to knot you so much. I _need_ to. Need to know you’re safe beneath me.... _around_ me. That’s the only thing that’s kept me going today, Dean: knowing that _my_ Dean is away from this and safe. If only I could get my children away as well....

But, oh, by the Moon herself, I need you so much right now. Need to be buried in you. If I could control myself not to knot you, can I have you, Dean?” Sam was beginning to lean his body forwards, forcing Dean’s to bend backwards beneath him in an un-natural arch, especially where his bent, folded legs beneath him were concerned.

“Sam? _Sam!_ ” Dean felt that his knees were going to break beneath the weight of them both as he was pressed awkwardly back. It was with a real sense of relief that he felt Sam suddenly twist to swing his own legs back so he was kneeling astride Dean instead, using his tight grip around his torso to pull his brother’s slighter chest up to meet his own, giving the human the much-needed chance to alter his position. He would rather have to lie flat beneath Sam than be bent double under him.

Although if he had his choice, they wouldn’t even be _touching_ let alone be in so intimate a pose.

Sam helped him stretch by catching his hips in his right hand and lifting them bodily as well, allowing Dean the space to unbend his legs without what might have been painful twists to his knees. But even as Dean tried to straighten his lower limbs, Sam was knocking them apart with his own until they were both lying fully out on the rug, with the younger man on top and between his brother’s legs.

But it wasn’t only Sam’s weight that Dean could feel. To his horror, he became aware that Sam was fully erect. And huge! Even through both sets of their clothing he could feel his cock pressing so hard against him that it was uncomfortable.

Dean caught his breath and forced himself not to panic as the memory of how Sam had told him about how he had claimed the other Dean flashed through his head. He looked up and tried to meet Sam’s gaze steadily: they stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment.

Sam broke the silence. “As much as I want you, Dean, I won’t. It’s just...your scent. I will never be able to explain to you just what Dean’s scent means to me. What _yours_ does to me...” He inched himself physically up the other’s body enough to be able to claim one last, lazy, arousing kiss, and rub his groin deliberately against him then, with a sigh, got to his feet and returned to his seat, leaving Dean slightly shaken on the floor.

“I’m not angry at you for earlier, in fact I’m angry at myself. You were right, I should have stood up for you against Sara. Especially as this is your first day here: it must all must be so different. But I could wish that you hadn’t managed to draw quite so much attention to yourself! It’s gone _viral_  for Our Lady’s sake!”

“I’m sorry, I just...”

“It’s ok. That’s not important. Not like...I couldn’t believe....him turning up at the school. Knowing who I am. Knowing who _you_ are! That terrifies me, Dean. That really terrifies me.” Again he slumped in the chair, his face ashen.

“What’s changed?” By now Dean had managed to get back on his feet and was crossing to lean his head against the coolness of the window, desperate to try and cover the fact that he was still trembling a little.

“What?” Sam looked over at him without understanding.

Dean turned where he stood to face him. “What’s changed? Why today? What’s suddenly happened in your case to force him to act, to try and threaten you off? There must be something.”

“I can’t discuss the case with you, Dean!”

“I’m not expecting you to.” He crossed back over to the chair where the other was sitting and again knelt beside it, but this time it didn’t feel embarrassing. “But think! Something’s making him nervous, something you’ve got on him. Whatever it is, you make sure you use it, Sam.”

He stared up into the serious hazel eyes that he knew so well, as intently as they stared back into his. Then Sam was nodding: “There’s an informant, we’ve got him in hiding. I can’t give you any details, but it’s one of his own that Manolli betrayed, and _he_ came to _us!_ The details he’s giving, Dean! I was half wondering if he was playing us, but if we can get him to testify....”

“You get every detail, Sam. Make copies of it in case. Check it all thoroughly, don’t leave this Mr Manolli a single issue to raise doubts about. You’ve got him worried, Sam. Use it. Force him to make the mistake!”

“Mistake?”

“He gets nervous, he gets reckless: he’ll make a mistake, Sam. If he’s as important as you’re suggesting, then.... yeah, they’ve got men to do their dirty work but when it comes down to it, the really serious stuff... none of these bosses will ever trust anybody else to do it. Not the really important things. They always want to see it through themselves, to make sure it’s done _right._ He’ll make a mistake, Sam. You’ve just got to make sure you’re in the right place when it happens.”

“I thought you said you hunted monsters: you seem to know a lot about this.”

Dean smiled at his brother. He thought of Dick Roman, and shuddered a little when his thoughts turned to Lilith. “Trust me,” he told Sam. “The higher they are: the less they’ll trust anyone else not to screw up! Anything _really_ important, they’ll be there. Make sure _you_ are as well.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully, never once looking away from his eyes. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Dean smiled and started to return to his feet, only to have Sam put his hands over his arms to hold him gently but firmly where he was. With a sigh he stayed where he was. “O-K... That reminds me, what’s the F.A.O?”

He winced in pain as the large hands suddenly tightened, his brother’s manicured nails digging in even through his borrowed long-sleeved sweater. “Where did you hear that, Dean?” Sam’s tone was short, clipped.

“What is it?”

He tried to remain calm as Sam tried to stare him down. It was the younger man who broke the sudden tense silence. “The FAO. Freedom for All Omegas. An underground movement that claims to hide and provide for omegas that have been forcibly claimed against their will, who are being abused and deliberately humiliated, who simply don’t want to be possessions any more. That’s if they exist.”

“You don’t think they do?”

“There’s no proof! Omegas vanish from their admittedly miserable lives and are never seen again!” Sam finally released his hold, threw up his arms and got up to pace the floor. “Perhaps they _are_ safe! But perhaps...

I hate how we treat omegas, Dean! I _hate_ it! As they get more and more scarce, so our society should be treating them like... well, like royalty! But instead they’re being more and more restricted: losing more and more of their rights every day. Laws are being ignored and they’re being treated like...possessions! Everyone’s terrified of them being taken even if they’re already claimed, so rather than _that_ being the issue, it’s the _omegas_ whose lives are being destroyed! They’re being forced to stay in hiding in case they’re taken.

And they are, Dean! Omegas are being _stolen!_ Or sold out in the streets like so much.... you _saw_ it! Forced to live and breed with the highest bidder. Or worse: they end up in the sex trade. Which is _big_ money! And getting bigger each day the more the shortage of omegas! It’s a vicious circle!

They’re drugged deliberately to keep them in a state of permanent heat, begging for anyone to knot them, willing to let _anything_ be done to them to try and get through the madness. Which will only end once they’re wrung out completely physically, and all but destroyed mentally and emotionally.”

Sam stopped pacing and instead came over to kneel on the floor beside Dean, leaning slightly over him and catching the older man’s face in his large hands. “That’s why I want D.A, Dean! Perhaps I can try to make a difference, to try and influence a change, however small. It’s a start! What if our _kids_ turn out to be omegas, Dean? Probably not Samuel, but Johnny? Mary-Anne? What if they’re _omegas?_ What the hell sort of life are they going to have?

I can’t bear the thought of them always being as terrified as....well, as _you_ are! But the FAO isn’t the answer, Dean: it might even be the sex traffickers in disguise! It’s a perfect way to get hold of omegas! So, tell me where you heard about them and don’t you ever go near them! I mean it, Dean! I’d tie you into the bedroom before I let you get anywhere near those people!”

The other’s eyebrows rose, but he remained silent. Sam nearly shook him in his frustration, he knew he was holding Dean so tightly that he must be leaving bruises all over his cheeks and jaw, but he _needed_ him to understand.

The _only_ place safe for his brother in this world was this house.

Eventually he got his fraught emotions under control and released his grip, wincing as he saw the already blackening marks on the other’s skin. Sam struggled back into his chair, feeling even more guilty than he had previously, without looking around.

He _couldn’t_ look round at Dean.

Finally, as his brother swore under his breath at his once more painful knees and started to try and get his feet beneath him ready to put his weight on them, Sam spoke. As calmly and controlled as he could. “Are you going to read them a story? They’d love that, especially Johnny: he’s a quiet child but he’s really taken to you. I think he might be an ... I’m _worried_ he is, Dean. But, anyway....once you’ve finished, then come back in here with me.

Please.

I’ve got a lot of work I need to do, especially if I’m going to be at the school every morning and afternoon from now on, but I’d like it if you’re here with me. There’s room on my chair for two! Or Dean... _my_ Dean...often likes to bring a book in and sit against my legs. If you want to....”

He didn’t look up as Dean finally stood up and wandered back to the window.

Risking a glance outside, he watched the car opposite with its permanent occupants momentarily and wondered about mentioning it, but decided that his younger brother was stressed enough at the moment. Then, as he heard the children impatiently calling for their story, his attention went up to the now beginning-to-wane moon shining above.

“You abandoning me to this world?” he felt like saying to it. “To _this_ place? My brother seems to think my ‘place’ is on the floor at his feet! Great.

Just fucking great.”

 

           *           *          *            *            *            *           *           *            *

 

Sam smiled as Dean approached the sofa, book-in-hand. “May I join you?”

“Of course.”

Sam tightened his grip on his laptop and went to slide along the seat a little, but to his surprise Dean simply moved to sit on the floor, leaning his body without hesitation against Sam’s long denim-covered legs. Even as Sam blinked with surprise, he felt the other’s right arm brush against the back of his left calf, as Dean pushed his hand between his brother’s booted feet to take a firm hold around his shin and pull himself even closer to the younger man’s touch.

“Erm...Dean?”

“Yes, Sam?” The genuine innocence in the older man’s voice left Sam a little stumped for what to say. So...

“Whatcha reading?”

Dean closed his book enough to show Sam the title: ‘Lore of Werewolves and Lycanthropes: an Amalgamation of Fifty Years of Field Research’. “I figured if that’s what you and the other Dean were hunting, then I should know about them. I found it amongst all your books: I hope that’s alright.”

“Good thinking.”

Sam tried to return his concentration to his research about the building, but felt small droplets of sweat break out on his top lip as Dean adjusted his position slightly, moved his arm down, and his fingers somehow started to creep up his brother’s leg _beneath_ his jeans.

Again his touch on Sam’s skin: again the effect that it just should not _have!_ What _was_ it about this Dean that made Sam respond like this?

He shifted in his seat, resisting the temptation to pull completely away from the other. Bad move: Dean also shifted imperceptively and leant further across, his hand sliding further up Sam’s long limb under his denims until his fingers were wrapped just under his knee on the inside of Sam’s leg, stroking softly against the flesh there, and his head was resting against it on the outside, his soft short hair only separated from brushing against Sam’s skin by the thin material.

Despite himself, Sam wondered how soft his brother’s hair _was_.

 _Despite_ himself, he reached out to gently touch Dean’s head, then began to softly stroke his hair as if he was petting a small animal. And Dean relaxed into his hand, nuzzling against his long fingers almost with a cat-like intensity of pleasure.

If he had started to purr, Sam would have come in his pants there and then.

He knew he had to distract himself: “Erm...I was wondering. We got nowhere today with returning you to your world, so would you help me hunt these weres down, Dean? Your ability to scent them would be incredibly helpful. I’m not giving up on sending you back! Never! But at least we can do this in the meantime, try and stop any more people getting killed.

And... tell me about your world, Dean. Why are you so terrified of being out in public? Is it that dangerous? And.... _my_ Dean? Will he be okay? Will whatever you’re so scared of be after him as well?”

Dean’s hand stilled and he became tense. “It’s not a good world to be an omega in. Not anymore. We’re too highly prized.”

“Prized? As in...?”

“We’re being taken. Stolen. Forced to breed, or be sex workers. I don’t like being outside: too many watching eyes, too many touchy hands. Too many people who _want_.”

“But Dean’s not an omega! He’s a human!”

Dean twisted slightly against his leg and nuzzled into him with his nose, inhaling deeply. “You look like my Sam. You _smell_ like my Sam. And he’s an Alpha. And if you look and smell so very like my Sam, and you say that I look so very like _your_ Dean, then it is very likely that...”

“That he smells like you as well.” Sam felt his blood suddenly run cold. “In which case...”

“In which case, he has the scent of an omega. Which is not good, Sam.

It’s not good at all.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Do I _have_ to go?”

Sam couldn’t help but smirk at Dean: he had got exactly as petulant as his real brother would when being forced to do something that he really did not want to do! But then he tried to force himself to at least _look_ serious.

“There was another killing yesterday: a lady went missing on her way home from work. What was left of her was found late last night. It’s got all the hallmarks of werewolves, Dean, but the full moon ended the night you arrived! We have to stop these things, Dean. And I’d really appreciate you being there, so hold still and put the suit on!”

His brother fidgeted as he tried the jacket on. “But _I_ can’t walk in to somewhere and convince them I’m FBI, Sam! Look at me: I’m useless! I can’t do anything but be a mother!”

Sam tutted at him: he knew what this was about really. He had, to his relief, managed to wake slightly earlier that morning in time to feel Dean, who had asked to sleep in his bed again, beginning to work his way with his mouth down Sam’s large strong body, and to stop him.

Not that he had _wanted_ to.

 _God_ , no!

He had wanted Dean’s lips around him again and his tongue doing... whatever ...it had the previous morning when he had awoken Sam with that incredible blowjob. But he knew he _had_ to.

“You don’t have to _please_ me, Dean. I’ll look after you for as long as you’re here, you don’t have to feel that you have to.... I won’t abandon you, I promise.”

“You didn’t like me doing that, Sam? I’m sorry, I...” He had been upset, and Sam’s heart broke: he hated seeing his brother upset, he had caused far too much of that throughout his life already.

“No, Dean. I really _did_ like that! Far too much! You....I.... I _can’t_ , Dean! You’re my brother! It just... I shouldn’t _want_ you like that! It’s not okay here, however much I enjoyed it.”

“But I’m not your _real_ brother, Sam, so it’s alright! And I enjoyed doing that to you, you made the same noises as my Sam: it made me think I was home, just for those few minutes.... And I don’t have any other way of thanking you for...”

“You cooked an amazing meal for me, Dean. And I like your company. And I will get you safely home somehow, you don’t _have_ to thank me. But I also have to face my brother when he comes back, Dean! And I can’t if I’m thinking about...well, if I’m thinking about him being in my bed. That’s not something that... I can’t let myself think about him in that way, Dean.”

And that, Sam hoped, had been the end of the conversation. He had enveloped Dean in his arms and kissed the top of his head, settling them both down to go back to sleep _without_ the other being able to wander at all, either with his hands or his mouth.

Because if he had... well then, the _dreams_ that Sam had had about his brother last night: they had all resurfaced from where he had so carefully buried them years before, and anything happening this time would _not_ have ended with just a blowjob...

But now he stood and buttoned Dean’s jacket, making sure it was the same fit on him that it was on his brother, and showed him how to produce his fake badge, and tried to assure him that he _could_ act with the necessary confidence that would be needed.

And Dean regarded him with a strange cross between anxiety and sullenness, and a nervous pout that was making Sam desperate to attack it with his own mouth. He quickly forced the impulse down and tried to concentrate on doing his tie up. Which at least caused Dean to remove the pout and instead to tut himself, as he removed Sam’s hands from the offending garment and proceeded to tie it for his brother with the confidence of someone who did it every day.

Then to Sam’s amusement he was inspecting the younger man, making him turn on the spot, and removing non-existent pieces of lint. “Can we not have smarter suits? Tailored ones? You look so good in your new dark-grey one.... ”

“We’ll do! Come on!”

“But do I _have_ to?”

The killing this time had been closer to home, in Coffeyville. Sam hoped that Dean would feel happier walking around there as at least there wouldn’t be as many people as there had been in a large city like Kansas City. Although his anxiety about anyone looking at him was causing Sam to worry more and more about his lost brother, and he found himself sending up a quiet prayer to Castiel for advice as he drove, in the hope that the Angel might have some idea about where Dean, the _real_ Dean, had gone.

He had researched the few new details of the case carefully: the woman had never made it to her small jeep where it had been parked in her office car park. Her husband had called the police when she had failed to return home, and her remains had been found in the early hours of the following morning. Sam was grimly aware that if they could only have caught that thing that day in the warehouse, they could have saved this woman.

They _had_ to stop whatever it was this time.

He debated with himself about taking Dean to the mortuary with him: just how would this Dean react to seeing what was going to be horrific? But the only alternative would be to leave him out in the car, so....

At least by nature of the place, it was quiet. Hardly anyone around as he cajoled, argued and eventually ordered Dean to accompany him through the door, and all but slapped his hands down from nervously fiddling with his fake badge.

“Confidence! Deep breath, you don’t have to talk if you don’t feel that you have anything to say of any relevance, but act as if you’ve every right to be there. _We’re_ the authority in the room! Act as if we’re in control of the situation! It’s easy!”

He sighed as the wide green eyes nervously stared up at him. “You’ll be fine, Dean. Really. Just...stay close to me. Not too close! Partners at work, not anything else! Stand tall. It’ll be fine.”

‘Shit’, Sam thought to himself as he strode into the coroner’s small office, ready to request to see the body. ‘No _way_ this isn’t going to go pear-shaped!’

But actually his brother had been fine. Better than fine. He had stood nervously but tautly one step behind Sam as he had talked their way into the morgue, but hadn’t faltered. Or fumbled the badge, even though Sam could see his hand shaking slightly as he handed it over.

And he hadn’t even blinked at the remains. In fact he had examined them with interest, giving a quick glance at Sam to get his attention. Sam had to swallow down his own bile as he reacted to the bloody mess and asked the mortician for a glass of water, drifting innocuously round to the side of the drawer that his brother was standing looking from. “What is it?”

“Two sets of bites.”

“What? How can you tell?”

“Easy. The incisors on that one are intact: this bite, this one, there is one not formed properly. Look, by the left canine, it doesn’t fit snugly with the other as it should: it turns in on itself slightly. It gives a different mark. Your coroner will confirm that. And there are the same scents as on the roof, all over what’s left of this poor female. Same two.”

“You sure?”

He fell silent at the disgusted look that Dean gave him, and was grateful for the diversion of the drink arriving. Then there was nothing else to do there, but get the address of the deceased and the next of kin details.

And mumble an apology to his brother as soon as they got outside.

“So, where to now?”

“We talk to the new widower.” The house was in a nice suburb: green lawns; weeded paths; a child’s bike by the side of the path. Low white picket fence. A place where nothing unpleasant should ever happen.

Sam knocked at the front door and grasped his brother’s hand momentarily to settle them both, releasing it just as quickly when footsteps could be heard approaching the glass. “Confidence!” he hissed.

But it wasn’t the man that they were expecting who opened the door. In fact, it wasn’t a man at all.

She was pretty: fortyish; blonde hair that was only just giving away the fact it was dyed; gym-toned figure, but she was also pale with dark bags beneath her eyes. She looked startled on seeing them, especially when she saw their badges. “I don’t know if I can help you.”

“We won’t take a few minutes of your time, ma’am. Just a few questions.” Sam hit her with his puppy-dog eyes and they were soon in the house.

She led them across to a settee, picking up toys from the floor as she went. “I’m sorry, my brother-in-law went to the office to try and sort a few things out. I think really he just needed a few minutes of normality: this whole thing is just a nightmare. I can’t believe it.”

“And you are, ma’am?”

“I’m Julie, Sheri’s older sister. Russ called me last night when she didn’t come home, and I came over to help with the children while he dealt with the police. Then, when they found...Oh God, how could such a thing have happened! Oh, Sheri...” She dissolved into tears, but quickly tried to wipe them away as two young girls ran into the living room.

“You okay, Auntie Ju? Who are they?” Then to the surprise of the other two adults, they were both veering immediately to climb onto the small separate sofa that Dean had chosen to sit on, each finding it perfectly natural to snuggle in either side of him. “Who are _you?_ Can you tell us a story?”

The responding smile was genuine and warm, and made Sam almost want to join them as Dean distracted the youngsters and began to read from the book that had materialised from somewhere. It took him back to his own childhood: Dean himself would sometimes struggle over a few of the words, only being that few years older than his insatiable little brother, but he would put on different voices for all the characters, never once forgetting which was which. Sam had learnt to love books because of Dean.

He shook off the urge to simply listen to the deep voice and instead began to quietly question the woman, learning that she was a divorcee who had moved closer to her only sister and family as part of a new start. The events of the last twenty-four hours had shaken her to her core, and she kept looking like she would collapse with the shock of it all. It seemed only the presence of the children was keeping her from falling apart.

Finally he stood up, and nodded to his brother to follow suit. As Dean suggested to the children that they return to their rooms to play a while, Sam got the address of the husband’s office and began to politely say his goodbyes and condolences to the bereaved woman.

Then to his surprise, Dean was stepping forward to stare straight at her with nothing short of contempt in his expression. “No wonder you’re so ashamed. You should be! Was he worth it?”

“I....” Julie stared at him in surprise.

As did Sam.

He was even more surprised when the woman began to chew violently at the inside of her lip, enough to cause a trickle of blood to escape her mouth. Still Dean stood and glared at her. Then she suddenly blushed guiltily and looked at her feet, tears beginning to trickle down her cheek. “I... I just wanted to feel loved. It was exciting. I knew it was wrong. And then, last night...when she never came home. And I looked at those two little faces.... Oh God, what have I done? How could I have done that.... to my own sister?”

“Dis _gust_ ing.” Dean almost snarled the word at her and she cringed back into herself, the tears properly breaking through. He stood impassively and watched her cry. Sam was amazed but knew to also remain quiet.

“How did you know?” she finally controlled herself enough to whisper. “You gave no sign that you knew. How...?”

“You reek of guilt: it’s _pouring_ off you. And his scent: his scent in this house, it’s _on_ you. All over you! Did he think you were going to be an immediate replacement?”

“I...! He came to the spare room this morning: we already knew she was dead, but he... As if Sheri didn’t matter! I couldn’t believe it: that was my _sister!_ That’s why he went to the office: I told him to get out! I’ll never forgive myself. _Really!_ You have to believe me!”

With an effort she straightened her head up to stare into Dean’s eyes, as if begging for forgiveness, at least from him, even if she would never be able to get it from her dead sister.

She didn’t get any from Dean either.

He simply turned and left the house, followed by a silent Sam. Behind them they could hear the noise of her collapsing to the floor, hysterical. But neither turned back.

Sam watched his brother from the corner of his eye as they drove to the new address. Dean’s jaw was tense and tight, and he could see real fury blazing in the green eyes. And he thought about how the other had had no obvious reaction, or even discomfort, in viewing the remains when even Sam, with all his experience, had felt nauseous. And he remembered how Dean had gone up the side of that building the previous day: the inhuman speed and agility he had.

Not for the first time, he wondered about how he would deal with this new Dean should something happen to ever make him become a threat. And tried not to think about whether or not he even _could_.

The office block was smart and modern, and they had to go up three floors and through a lot of corridors to find where the deceased woman’s husband worked. Dean’s sudden turn of temper had carried him through the front door and up in the lift, but as they got deeper and deeper in and he became aware that he was gradually being surrounded by so many white collar workers, so the anger subsided and the terror began to creep through once more.

Sam caught at his arm to guide him through a crowded section of small booths to the more senior position’s offices at the rear of that particular business. “Just stay close.” Then he was knocking at the door and introducing them both.

The husband, Russell, was immediately nervous at their arrival, and hesitant to let them in. In his early forties, hair just beginning to turn grey; he was pale in complexion, almost greyish in colour, and had definite sweat patches staining beneath both arm pits of the day old shirt that had obviously been slept in the night before.

“Sorry to disturb you, sir.” Sam began, “We did go to your home: we were surprised to learn you were here instead.”

“Just a few things to sort out. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I mean....the kids....”

“We’re truly sorry, sir. But we do have a few questions about yesterday....”

Sam let the man talk, knowing full well now that he had been betraying his wife but allowing him to tell them both about how completely perfect his marriage had been and how absolutely desolated he was at the brutal way it had ended. He wasn’t really surprised when his brother finally had enough of the lies and suddenly sat forward in his seat to face the man down.

“Your anxiety is spiking!”

“I....excuse me?”

“Your stress levels: it affects your scent. And yours has intensified exponentially since you mentioned how she died.”

“I.... do you _know_ how she died? Of _course_ I’m stressed!”

“No.” Dean stared at him, a really unpleasant expression on his face. “This isn’t just guilt from your affair with her sister...” Russell exclaimed in panic and began to try to refute the allegation, but just as suddenly slammed his mouth shut as Dean was somehow around the desk and had both hands tightly on the man’s sweaty collar, pulling him to his feet before Sam could blink.

The younger man got to his feet in a slight panic, grateful that the blinds were closed on the door.

“How did you know about me and Ju? I mean....”

“She told us. She, at least, is remorseful about it. But you... You did this, didn’t you?” His fists tightened in the cloth, causing a slight cry of fear from the man as he was raised onto the very tips of his toes to stare directly into Dean’s eyes.

“Dean!” Sam hissed in alarm. But he fell silent again as they angrily flashed in his direction.

“I can smell one of the betas on him. It's very slight but it's there. And something else: human...but not. And that same scent is also in here, but it’s being covered by his stress: it’s stinking the room out. He _did_ this. He knows who killed her because he was behind it. But I don’t think you realised just how violent her death would be, did you?” He turned his attention back to the now terrified man. “The stench of your guilt is as strong as your stress.”

“How did you....? Are you like.... _him?_ ” Russell winced as Dean’s eyes became calm and controlled, meeting his wide, terrified ones without any compassion at all. And somehow, he thought, this green eyed man was far more frightening like that than when he had simply only been angry. “Are you... not human as well? I didn’t _know!_ Didn’t know what they would do. I only wanted her out of the way so I could... When the police told me what had.... I swear I didn’t intend that.”

“Go on.” Even Sam felt a prickle of fear sprint down his spine as he heard the threatening growl beneath the words.

“I contacted this....person.... paid them....who arranged for there to be an accident. Oh God, I don’t know what I was thinking. I thought I was in love with Julie: me and Sheri hadn’t been getting on too well since she got promoted and she was always busy with the girls, and Julie... Well, I just.... but I never wanted _this_. And Julie was so upset, and when I tried to comfort her this morning... her face. She thinks I’m a monster! But whatever did this! _That’s_ the real monster! Not _me!_ ”

The man subsided into nervous silence as Dean continued to stare at him, not daring to take his eyes off the irate agent even as Sam finally recovered himself enough to ask for details of how he had contacted the hired killer or killers. Not even as he reached into his wallet and pulled out a card with just a phone number written on to shakily hand it to the younger man across the desk without looking, his hand trembling violently. “I just asked about....just made enquiries. Then, last week, this was on my desk! Right in here! But I always lock my office! I called, left a message. _He_ called _me_.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. I told him what I wanted. Then...”

“Then?”

Finally Russell dared to break his gaze from Dean’s eyes and turned his head to face Sam instead. His voice dropped to a whisper: “He told me to get the money ready, then yesterday I came back from lunch and... he....was waiting in the alley as I went past. It was so strange: he just called my name and I went in, couldn’t stop myself! I just obeyed! I handed him the payment, he turned to his ‘friend’ and...”

“ _And?_ ”

His attention snapped back to Dean at the snarl.

“And... he...it... _changed!_ Right then and there! He grew....teeth! And claws! And hair! And he went right up the fucking wall, jumping from side to side of the alley and then up the fire escapes as if... And I stared at the man that had called me in and he just laughed at me! Said ‘try getting anyone to believe _that!_ ’ Then he just walked away.

I....almost thought I’d eaten something bad at lunch that had made me hallucinate, but.... when she didn’t come home last night, I knew. And then when the police arrived and said what they’d found.... Jesus. I swear I didn’t intend that. I _swear_ it.”

He was staring straight at Dean, desperate to get him to understand.

“What did this man look like?” Sam spoke up again. “The one who took the money?”

“Tall. Thin. I don’t know. But he was the boss: the other...the thing that changed....took his orders from him. It wasn’t human, it was a _monster!_ And I set it on my wife.... I set it on my _wife_. Oh Christ, what did I do?” He was finally breaking, the tears overflowing with genuine remorse for the first time. He just crumpled back down into his seat when Dean finally released his collar and stepped back.

“You’re saying a _monster_ did this? You know what?” Russell raised his head to look at him, snot and tears mixed equally on his face. “You both smell exactly the same to me.”

And with that, Dean was leaving, glancing at Sam as he passed to exit the room without turning. His younger brother hurried to catch up, grabbing for his arm as soon as the door had closed behind them and they were alone in the corridor.

“Dean?”

“That authoritative enough for you, Sam?” He was smirking, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Sam stared down at him in disbelief.

“ _That_ was _acting!_ ”

The smile momentarily flicked away and there was a flash of anger in the green once more, then it had gone. “What do we do now?”

Sam continued to stare at him open-mouthed.

Dean shrugged and continued down the corridor, his footsteps faltering as the view from the office corridor opened out into the large area with all the small booths. And all the men and women sitting in them. He hastily backed up and began to turn, to ask Sam for help as nervousness again kicked in and he felt unsure and unsafe once more in this strange world.

He was as much surprised as Sam was at himself, when the younger man suddenly pushed him bodily backwards into the wall and kissed him with a passion that was dangerously close to being fully ignited. Dean recovered himself and caught his hands up into the tempting soft locks, pulling Sam down closer to him and allowing his long arms to wander even more freely than they had suddenly been doing.

And they _were_ wandering.

Sam’s hands were all over him: slipping under his jacket; pulling out his collared shirt to get to the warm skin beneath; touching what he had always wanted to touch. Reaching to cup round Dean’s ass and pull his body even closer until there was no space at all between them.

Then Dean was suddenly pushing him away with a muttered curse: “You’re making me slick, Sam!”

“What?” but even as he asked, the scent hit him. The sweetest, most enticing aroma that had ever filled his nostrils. He had already noticed how good Dean smelt, but this new scent was overpowering every single one of his senses like it was something physical. It was more arousing than anything he had ever known before.

And it wasn’t only him who was noticing it. Out of the corner of his eye and down the corridor Sam could see the people in the nearest booths beginning to sniff the air and look around for the source of the unusual, but incredibly intoxicating aroma.

“Shit!” Noticing a store cupboard behind them, he opened the door quickly and pushed his brother inside, crowding him in as he closed the door behind them. “What is it? What do you mean, slick?”

Dean’s cheeks were red with embarrassment. “It’s _you!_ Just then! My body recognises you and your scent as my Alpha and it’s readying itself for... well, for _you!_ ”

“But...? You mean...” Sam gaped at him. “For _sex?_ For us to have _sex?_ ”

The other’s face was now almost scarlet, contrasting unfavourably with his hair. “I’m already getting wet: this is going to ruin your brother’s suit.”

“So how do we stop it?”

“Well, only by.... But we can’t hide in here for an hour!”

Sam blinked. “You mean... You want me to... You’d _let_ me? I mean... that’s the only way to... you _sure?_ That’s the only way to stop...”

But he had his answer by the look on Dean’s face: there was no need for him to verbally respond.

“Okay. I... You sure? I don’t want to force you... I mean... Is this okay? Do I need anything? Lube? Or anything...?”

“I’m _slicking_ , Sam! In a _cupboard_ , for Our Lady’s sake! It’s like being a newly presented adolescent all over again! Get on with it!”

Sam bit his lip, but turned Dean to face the door with him standing behind him, sliding his hands around his waist to open his pants and pull them loose enough for what was needed. Despite himself, he had to look as he eased his brother’s soaked boxers down. He was already hard, but just the sight of Dean’s naked ass took his erection to almost painful levels.

Not to mention that the scent increased, filling the entire space of the small room until Sam felt he could drown in it and die from sheer bliss. He moved to cup one of Dean’s cheeks and felt the dampness on his hand. It was human nature for him to bring it to his nose to inhale properly. And then it smelt so good that he had to taste, licking his own fingers with curiosity.

And then he licked them again, as the taste exploded on his tongue. A natural sweetness that was even better than the scent and slid like the purest honey over his taste-buds. Better than honey, because somehow it was still Dean: his scent in edible form. And it was immediately addictive: he wanted more. But his brother was fast losing his patience.

“Will you just get on with it, Sam! I don’t want to get caught in _here!_ ”

“Sorry, I’m sorry! You sure?”

He was answered with a definite growl that sent a shiver both straight down his back and straight to his cock. He quickly opened his own pants, covered Dean’s body from behind with his own and pushed in, unable to contain the moan from escaping him as a lifetime of wet dreams suddenly came true.

“Sam! Shush!”

“Sorry....I.... oh God, Dean!” He wasn’t going to last: he knew he wasn’t going to last. This was just too.... _everything._

It seemed like only a moment before he was coming inside Dean, biting his lip to try and stop himself from shouting his ecstacy at the conquest aloud at the top of his voice. Then he was putting his hand round to give Dean release as well before kissing his brother’s neck and holding him tightly, pulling his back tighter to Sam’s chest, wishing that there no clothes in between them to get in the way.

Reluctantly he finally stood back, pulling Dean’s boxers and pants up for him first before his own. “That okay?”

But he was taken aback as the other turned to look at him in genuine surprise. “Was that it?”

“Yeah. Well, yeah! Wasn’t that good enough? I mean...did it.. _.I._..do...enough?”

“Yes. Well. Enough for us to get out of here anyway. But my clothes are still wet: will there be another way out of here without going through that open area?”

Sam was still staring at him, but tried to force himself to focus his thoughts on the immediate problem. “There must be back stairs somewhere, or a fire exit.”

He felt a little guilty as he pulled Dean away from the door a little more roughly than he should have and led him out of the store cupboard to try and to find another way out of the building, trying to stop his own hand from catching a tight hold of his brother’s but failing miserably.

‘ _Was that it?_ ’

Suddenly he couldn’t give a damn about hunting down the owner of that card any more.


	9. Chapter 9

“Dean! Dean! Dean! Dean! Dean! Dean! _Dean!_ ”

He had just had time to put the hot tray of freshly baked muffins down and drop to one knee before the little girl was on him with a huge bear-hug. “Hey M-A! You’ve obviously had a good day at school!”

“I got the highest score in the test! I’m the _best!_ I wanted to _tell_ you! Why didn’t you come to pick us up? You baked _muffins!!_ ” Her voice reached an unprecedented level of decibels. “And what’s this?” as she turned to look at the kitchen table.

“Home-baked root vegetable chips, and dip. I’ve been looking in your mom’s recipes: I don’t want him getting angry at me for feeding you rubbish snacks!”

“I _love_ these! You’re the best second-mommy anyone’s ever _had!_ ” She was already sitting up at the table and reaching for the food. “When can Lauren come and meet you?”

Dean sighed as he got to his feet but his response was silenced by Sam, who was following his children in through the kitchen door. “She can’t, Mary-Anne. We’ve been over this. Nobody can know that Dean isn’t your mother.”

“Aw, _dad_.”

“Hello, Dean.” Johnny was now giving him a hug as well, only quickly but a heart-felt, full, arms wrapped around the man’s body and limbs so that Dean couldn’t move momentarily one, then he was sitting up next to his sister. Samuel also moved to the table, but leant over Mary-Anne to steal a handful of her chips, laughing as she exclaimed with annoyance at him.

“Looks like you’ve been busy today.” Sam came to stand behind Dean as he returned to putting the muffins to safely cool out of the way, reaching automatically to put his arms lovingly around his brother’s waist and pull himself close to the other’s strong back.

“Sam.”

“Sorry.” He just as quickly released his grip and instead twisted his body around to lean back against the counter where Dean was working. “Did you stay in the house like I asked?” The question was quiet but intent.

“I sat out in the rear garden with a mug of coffee this afternoon, but otherwise I have been perfectly behaved!”

“Dean, this is serious.” Sam fought down his frustration at the human, but then couldn’t stop a smile from dimpling his cheeks as he caught the humorous twinkle in Dean’s eyes. “You _haven’t_ been out, have you? If anyone caught your scent, and that you’re unmated...”

“Scout’s honour, Sammy!” He held up his hand in a mock salute.

Sam snorted: “Yeah, _right_. And you haven’t been in my _study?_ At _all?_ ”

Dean considered. “I went to get Samuel’s laptop: I left it in there last night. But otherwise, no.”

Sam leant further back so he could study his brother’s expression. Dean turned and met his eyes without hesitation, his face full of nothing but complete innocence. The other frowned: “Hmph!”

The laughter of the children caught both their attention and they realised they were being watched by three pairs of amused green eyes. Sam snorted and moved to grab a share of the delicious snacks on the table. “Have you done anything for supper at all? If not, then we could all go out and grab something? Burgers? We could go to Steak’n’Roll?”

“Yey!” “That would be great, dad!” “But Mom doesn’t _like_ Steak’n’Roll!”

Sam stared across in surprise at his little girl. “Yes, I know he hasn’t wanted to go there for a while, but it’s only because he doesn’t think it’s the healthiest of meals for you. I just thought we could all go as a family and look after Dean between us.”

“But...” She was pouting suddenly, her smile completely gone.

Dean glanced at Sam then crossed to kneel beside Mary-Anne’s chair. “Do _you_ like this ‘Snake’n’mole?”

She burst out laughing: “ _No!_ It’s Steak’n’ _Roll!”_

“Shake’n’bowl?”

“ _NO!!_ ” He was nearly deafened by her excited shriek. “It’s “Steak! And! _Roll!_ ”

“Would _you_ like to go to this place?”

Her silence and reddening cheeks told him the answer.

“Will you look after _me_ if we go there later?”

“Okay!” She suddenly launched off the chair into his arms, almost knocking him completely over, and hugged him really tightly. “I’ll _always_ look after you, I promise, Dee!”

“Well, _okay_ then! But... homework first. Go on.” As the three of them groaned. “Go!”

Sam couldn’t hide his grin as his children all got up to obey. Then it very quickly got wiped off his face.

“ _And_ you!”

“What?”

“Go on! Go and get on with what you’ve brought home to do in your study! Go!”

And Sam was being shooed out as well. Of _his_ kitchen, when he thought about it later.

But he went anyway.

He took a long minute to stand and look around the small room that he used as his office when he was at home: had anything moved? Was anything different? Was there a stronger smell of Dean in there than there should be?

“Did you want a coffee?” Sam started and turned around to find the man was standing in the doorway watching him, steaming mug in his hand: the aroma of the newly brewed drink filling up the room with its heavenly scent.

Sam took it from him with a smile: “You really _haven’t_ been in here, have you? I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“Told ya.” He was turning away.

“Dean?” The other paused and waited momentarily. “And I’m sorry about those bruises on your face and neck: I know the children were upset that I wouldn’t let you take them to school this morning but with those...”

“I get it, Sam. Really. We could do without attracting any more attention than I managed yesterday. Give me a shout when you’re ready to go: Johnny’s asked me to help him with his maths, which,” he couldn’t help from giving a short laugh, “should be interesting...”

And he was gone, pulling the door closed behind him. Sam sighed: he really wanted Dean to stay in here with him but there were the children... and the fact that this being wasn’t _his_ Dean. With a sigh, he moved to switch on the screen and began to pull up files on his PC.

Dean waited until he had turned the corner back into the now quiet kitchen before he allowed the smirk to cross his face. Sam had been more correct than he had realised: he really _had_ been busy today. But not in the way that his brother had thought.

As soon as the family had left the house that morning, Dean had been down in the basement studying the shelf of discarded computing equipment that the family had amassed over the years, and as they were a modern, trendy family who had to have all the latest gadgets, it hadn’t taken him long to find everything he needed.

Firstly, he had set up a cloud computing site, with _really_ secure passwords, care of Sam’s ‘borrowed’ credit card details, (he must remember to put it back in his brother’s wallet before he noticed.)

Then he had slipped into Sam’s study, pulled the modem right out from where it was situated until he could get to the back enough to reach an unobvious, unused USB port and slide in the discarded flash drive that he had taken from the basement. A flash drive that now had a Dean-built spyware virus on it, (as taught to him by his real brother, who learnt it from Ash), that would create a copy of each and every file on Sam’s PC and upload it to the newly created cloud. And keep doing so until the virus was noticed and wiped off the system. As a fail-safe, Dean also had created the virus so that any ‘new’ file appearing on Sam’s study computer would copy itself unobtrusively to the flash drive itself, which he purposely left out-of-sight in the back of the modem.

Once he was satisfied that he could access everything on that PC from the old laptop that he had also found downstairs, he put everything back in the study as it should be, wiped down any marks he had made, and turned the house air conditioning on full. An hour of a good breeze in the room should surely have wiped most of his new scent that day in there, but for extra effect, in the afternoon and with the study door left purposely open, there would be the covering smell of the baking vegetables wafting around the house.

And of the freshly-made muffins.

And of course, the coffee.

He had sat with his own mug-full that afternoon and read through all of his brother’s confidential work files about this Mr Manolli and the case he was building against him. On paper, the man was just an extremely rich and powerful business man: he owned numerous companies in the city and beyond, attended every important city function, and seemed to have a finger in a lot of pies.

But Sam’s reports also spoke of numerous cases of threatened and physical intimidation and blackmail; extreme cases of violence; the selling and distribution of drugs; forced sex-working, and murders, two of which being the cases that Sam had asked his mate to come and see the scene of: all of which were whispered to be ordered by or even participated in by Mr Manolli, but without any actual definite _proof_ that he did. Or any still living witnesses who would be willing to take the risk of testifying against him.

Dean had sighed and hidden the old laptop away carefully at the back of a cupboard before the family came home: no way would he have risked using Samuel’s for this in case the young man had stumbled on any of this somehow. He might seem mature, but this wasn’t for the eyes of a sixteen-year-old.

Even as Dean was applying himself to try and remember how to do algebra with Johnny, his brain was buzzing through all the details he had learnt about this Manolli: there must be some way to trap him before he decided to up the stakes from just threatening this little family.

Steak’n’Roll had turned out to be one of a chain of burger joints, and obviously a popular one as most of the tables were full when they arrived. But Sam, with his taller height, could see a booth free at the other side of the room and quickly led them all to it, his large hand protectively around Dean’s right elbow. He had reached to hold his daughter’s hand as well, but she already had a tight grip on Dean’s left one and there was no way she was going to let go. They sat and studied the table-top menus for a few minutes.

“So what would you all like? You go first, Dean.”

“Simple for me, Sammy! Bacon cheeseburger and fries!”

The silence made him look at them all. “What?”

Sam cleared his throat: “Are you sure, Dean? A burger might be... it isn’t a common choice for an omega. You might find it... too much.”

“I’m good with one of those, Sam! Positive!”

“But...”

“He’s fine, dad.” Samuel interrupted suddenly. “Mom can have what he wants. What are _you_ having, Johnny?”

Sam glowered at his eldest but decided that two public family scenes in two days would be one too many. Then he glanced at his daughter, who was squirming more and more in her seat, and not from excitement. “Mary-Anne? Do you need the...?”

Her embarrassed blush and almost tearful expression as she looked up at Dean gave the answer. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“That’s okay... Oh! I guess that means I get to take you, huh?”

“I would, but I’ll go ahead and get the food ordered.” Sam was on his feet to let Dean and his daughter past, re-checking he had his credit card because earlier he could have _sworn_ that it hadn’t been in its designated slot in his wallet, and despite himself, took a detour to accompany them across the room, reluctant to let the man out of his view more than he could possibly help. He didn’t want to say it aloud but he was worried about someone coming at Dean out in the main part of the diner if he wasn’t there to protect him. At least nothing could happen in the sanctity of the restroom.

Dean went through the first door into the small passageway and raised an eyebrow at the next two: “Which one?” He whispered to the little girl.

“Not the one with the A!!” She chuckled at him and led the way through the other door. “That’s for male Alphas! Although male betas can use that one as well!”

“Great. Go on, M-A, quick as you can.” How the hell did he get himself into these situations?

At least there was only one lady waiting for her two children to wash their hands as Mary-Anne headed for the stalls. They finished and moved to go past him and out the door, but the woman paused to take a deep inhale and then leant towards him to take another, with a real, almost intoxicated, look of pleasure on her face: “You smell _wonderful!_ Your scent might be faint, but... And you are very handsome! Mmm: I’ve never actually _met_ a male omega before.” Her eyes turned flirtatious and she moved closer towards him. He hurriedly took a step back.

“That’s my _mom!_ ” The scorn in the little girl’s voice startled them both, but Dean had never been so relieved to hear it. The woman flushed with sudden embarrassment and hurried to follow her children out.

“Thanks, Mary-Anne! Now, hurry up and let’s get out of here!”

Dean leant his back against the main door as he waited for her, hoping that nobody else would try to come in. But then the records from Sam’s files began to go once more through his head: there must be something he was missing, something they could _use_ and then he could start to think about getting out of this strange world where people continually wanted to _sniff_ him! He began to pace while he thought and was so preoccupied that he didn’t notice the door opening behind him.

He noticed it when he was suddenly being pushed against the wall though.

Blinking in surprise, Dean tried to turn to see his attacker but found himself crushed by a body leaning full length against his, and hot breath ghosting over his neck.

“I was worried you weren’t ever coming back! Have you thought over my offer, omega? Just be mine, and I’ll put all three of your children through College.”

“Mom!” Mary-Anne was rushing out from the cubicle to be beside Dean, catching for his hand in a panic. Desperately he pushed against the wall, trying to dislodge the Alpha standing behind him. To his relief, the other stood back and Dean grabbed at the little girl’s arm, pulling her bodily behind him for protection.

He stared at the man who had assaulted him: shorter than he was; younger; dark hair; uniform of the burger joint. He had never seen him before but his name badge said ‘Bernie: Manager’.

“Let me guess,” Dean was trying to stall: no way did he want to risk having a fight with his daughter in the room. “We’ve had a conversation about this before?”

The man looked confused, but nodded. “I want you, omega. I mean that for your children, I’ve got the money sorted, I’ll pay for them: it’ll be a worry off that pretty head of yours. All you have to do is leave that tall stuffed shirt that you’re mated to.”

“Speaking of my mate: he’s probably going to come looking for me any moment.” Dean looked pointedly over the Alpha’s shoulder, willing the door to open every bit as much _now_ , as he had spent the previous minute hoping it _wouldn’t_.

The man laughed. “I put the ‘out of order’ sign on it as I came in. They’ll all go to the ones just outside. And that ‘mate’ of yours? I doubt he’s even looked up from his cell and noticed you’re gone yet: all he ever does is work. I’ll treat you good, omega. I really would!”

“Yeah. Thanks, but I’ll pass. Now, if you’ll excuse us, our food’s probably there.” He still had Mary-Anne behind him, his left arm twisted back to be protectively around her body as he began to try and move to leave the restroom. He could feel the little girl shaking as she clung to him. But the manager was determined now not to play so nice and stepped forward to block him.

“You’ll do as you’re _told_ , omega!”

The little girl shrieked and buried her face in Dean’s back, her arms going tight around his waist, and his arm going even tighter around her for protection. How was he going to fight this man off without her getting hurt? He was relieved to see the door swinging open behind the Alpha even as the other grabbed for his head to try and force a kiss: Sam was here.

But he wasn’t.

Instead, the manager‘s body suddenly jerked first back a little, then even more sharply forward and to one side of where Dean was, to purposely smash his own head violently face first into the tiled wall of the restroom. Then again. And once more, leaving a trail of blood, and possibly small fragments of skull, trickling down the wall as he started to collapse but couldn’t because of the tight grip that someone standing behind him had around the back of his neck. Then he was being thrown to one side as if he were nothing.

“Get that piece of shit out of here.”

And the all but unconscious, now blood-soaked manager was being half led, half dragged out of the room by two of the three men who had entered the room, leaving Dean staring at the man in the suit who had just saved him and Mary-Anne. He had seen him before: where had he seen him before?

“Don’t need garbage like _that_ around you, do we? You okay, omega? By Our Lady, you’re so frightened your scent’s all but gone, hasn’t it? I’ve never known that before, but then...I’ve never known a male one of you before. It’s alright, little one: he won’t touch you again. Your little girl okay?”

Mary-Anne!

Dean recovered himself enough to reach around to hold her tightly with both his arms, pulling her close enough to him so as to purposely hide her face against his chest, trying to not let her see the bloody state of the wall. “M-A? It’s all fine, nothing to worry about.”

“He was going to hurt you...” The two adults left in the room could barely hear the little voice through her sobs.

“Don’t you worry yourself about it anymore.” The Alpha was straightening his suit and tie, completely composed. “We won’t let anything happen to your mom: just think of us as his personal guardian angels. I...” But then he had paused. Reaching out, he caught Dean’s jaw gently but firmly in his hand, making the man angrily turn his head from side to side as his face and neck was examined intently. “I see you have an Alpha that likes to dish out punishment _away_ from the cameras. Hmph: you better not be damaged. The boss won’t like that.”

“What?”

But the man had let go of him and was already turning away. “You just take care of your daughter, little omega. Nothing for you to worry about now.”

And with that, he had gone from the restroom, the door swinging shut behind him.

Dean took a deep breath, but his first priority was the little girl. He let himself slide bodily down the wall, pulling her with him to sit on his lap, her face still pressed against him as she cried. “It’s okay, Mary-Anne, it’s over.” Gently he rubbed her back as he felt her tears finally subside. “I take it that’s why ‘I’ haven’t wanted to come here for a while? And why _you_ didn’t want to _come_ in here? Is this something that happens often?”

She nodded against his chest, leaving a damp patch on his shirt. “It’s always happening now, Dee. Mom can’t go anywhere without Alphas coming up to him, wanting to touch, or making rude suggestions. They say daddy isn’t good enough, he doesn’t take care of him like he should, and they want mom to go with them. He hates going out now: we can have friends round, but nobody new, just in case. Lauren’s mom is okay of course, or one of the other omegas.

But he hardly talks to anyone else anymore: I hate that. I _hate_ him being scared all the time, Dean.

But you mustn’t _tell_ daddy! Mom says he’s got enough to worry about at work and what he does is important. He doesn’t need _this_ as well!” She looked up at Dean, her pretty face a mass of red eyes and snot but somehow still endearing. He found a tissue in his pocket and wiped it for her with a smile.

“We’re going to go and get our food, then, when we get home, we’re going to tell your dad all of this: everything’s that been going on. Yes!” As she opened her mouth to argue. “Yes, we are. He needs to know all this. He may not be _my_ Sam, but I can tell you this without hesitation, M-A: there is _nothing_ more important to your dad than you kids, and your mom. _Nothing!_ ”

“Okay, Dean.” And she was hugging him tightly again. He hugged her back, suddenly with the discomforting realisation that something really terrible could just have happened to her. All because his look-alike from this world happened to be something unusual, something that he couldn’t even help being: it had just happened that he had been born that way.

Shit, and Dean had thought that _he_ had problems!

They were both startled by a tentative knock at the door and it opening slightly. “Dean? Erm, _mom?_ You in here? Dad sent me to find you. Everything okay? By the _Moon!_ ”

Samuel had caught the scents of all the Alphas in the room. From the scents: _male_ Alphas! Where male Alphas definitely should _not_ have been. And then his nostrils were hit by the stench of fresh blood where it was still trickling down the cracks in the tiles.

He was across the room in a blur of movement, kneeling astride Dean’s outstretched legs so he could get close enough to wrap his lanky arms around his little sister _and_ the man and hold them both tightly to him. “What’s _happened?_ Are you both okay? What’s that _blood?_ ”

“Not from either of _us_. But... we’ll be out in a minute: just catching our breath, eh, M-A? Can I ask you something, Samuel?”

The boy looked across at him: his arms still tense, tight, and slightly shaking around their shoulders from his anger at himself that he hadn’t been there to protect them. He _should_ have been there to protect them. “Anything.”

“How many other male omegas do you know?”

He looked bewildered. “I know of a few: there’s always stories about them in the papers and on TV.”

“No, how many do you _know?_ How many have you met personally?”

Samuel bit his lip but met his gaze steadily: “Only mom. And now you. And I think Johnny might be one when he presents. There _are_ no others around here that I’ve heard of. Male omegas like you are really, _really_ , rare, Dean.”

“I’m not an omega, Sammy.”

“Your scent says different, Dean. Yeah, you _are_.”

“Great. Just... _Great._ ”

He finally moved to get up from the floor. Samuel stood over him and reached to pick up his sister, but there was no way she was letting go of Dean so, in the end, all the boy could do was help him to his feet still with the seven year old held tightly in his arms.

“Do you think those other men hurt the Alpha that was hurting you, Dee?”

Dean winced at the question but answered honestly if not reluctantly.”Yeah, I think they probably did, M-A. But he deserved it.”

“Oh, I _hope_ they did.”

He grinned at her in relief. “Me too! Let’s go get our burgers!”

They left the out-of-order sign on the door as they exited the bathroom and returned to the table. Dean sighed on seeing Sam’s pale face and anxious, serious eyes: he could see how worried his brother had gotten at the length of time they had been gone for. He went even whiter when he took in his daughter’s red-rimmed eyes and scented the remnants of her stress and fear.

“What’s _happened?_ ”

“I’ll tell you when we get home.”

“But...”

“ _Later!_ That the food?” As he sat back down, still with the little girl in his arms and tried to encourage her to sit beside him on the bench again. “Oh, come to mama!”

He was pulling the styrofoam container towards him as he spoke, and the one for his...well, _Sam’s_ daughter, as he suddenly realised that he was ridiculously hungry. Both for something to eat, _and_ for something to be _normal_ in the way that nothing had been for the past couple of days.

Sam sighed and also opened his own meal, his appetite completely gone, especially as he was now catching the scents of other Alphas on his mate. Male ones. By the Moon, what had his brother been doing _now?_ But then...he had only been taking their daughter to the restroom, hadn’t he? What could possibly have _happened?_ He determined to get them all to eat quickly, and then he was taking Dean straight home to find out.

Dean was by now in through the packaging and taking a big bite of his burger, oblivious to how all the rest of the family were suddenly intently watching him. Then he all but gagged as the taste of the food filled his mouth. “What the...?”

He looked at the burger in his hand and fought down nausea: “It’s raw!”

“They cook the outside only enough to hold the pattie together. That’s how meat is eaten here. Well, red meat, anyway. White meat is meant to be cooked through because of the risk of food-poisoning, but some people prefer even _that_ raw. But most people here _like_ the inside of their burgers that way!”

“By most people, you mean _Alphas._ ” Dean was putting the burger roll down and grabbing for his drink to try and get rid of the disgusting sensation of raw ground beef on his tongue.

“Well, yes, I suppose. Dean, _my_ one, _definitely_ doesn’t like it: I’ve never known him eat any meat but chicken or fish. Or he just has the salad.”

“You okay, mom?”

“Could I send it back? Have it cooked some more?”

“You’ll attract attention to yourself if you do. Everyone here eats it like _that_...”

“Oh, for... just... Great.” Moodily Dean began to pick at the fries instead. This world couldn’t even get a simple _burger_ right: even the bacon hadn’t been cooked! He would never be able to look at a cheeseburger in the same way again. Then his food container was being removed from him and another put in its place. He stared at the earnest young man with surprise.

“I was worried you wouldn’t like it, so I ordered the chicken salad that mo... _you_ normally have, for myself. I’m happy to swap if that’s okay, _mom_.”

Sam felt a sudden twinge of guilt: _he_ should have thought of doing that.

Tentatively, Dean opened the new container: pieces of succulent, seasoned, _cooked_ , rotisserie chicken nestling in a bed of fresh mixed salad. His stomach growled in appreciation. “You sure, Samuel? You definitely okay with...mine? Thank you.”

The boy nodded and went slightly red in the face. “I like the burgers like that: I just wasn’t sure that _you_ would.”

Dean smiled at him gratefully. Looking around the table, he realised that Sam, Samuel and Mary-Anne had all gone for the...absolutely _disgusting_ all-but-raw burgers, although the little girl had gotten the children’s version, while Johnny had ordered the same chicken dish as he himself was now looking forward to tucking into.

And... actually, it was really delicious.

Dean chuckled to himself as he glanced out of the bedroom window later that evening: when he finally got back to _his_ world, him actually eating a salad without complaint was one detail that he _wasn’t_ going to be telling his Sam!

“Are they still there?” Sam’s voice as he spoke from behind him sounded cracked and raw with emotion.

They had finished their meal in record time, all of them but Johnny being in a hurry to get out of that diner, and as soon as they had got home Dean had gathered them all together at the kitchen table with the promise of a muffin each, and the children had sat and told their father everything that had been going on: just how much harassment _his_ Dean had been suffering for the last few years, and how it was getting steadily worse.

And he had been absolutely stunned.

He was now sat on his bed, his hands folded between his long legs, his face still streaming with silent tears.

Dean took one more look at the innocuous black car parked across the street outside: the one that his new friend with the suit was sitting in, and crossed to sit beside his brother on the bed. “They’re there. Perhaps it’s a good job they _were_ tonight...”

“We should call the police.”

“They’d say they weren’t doing anything, all just a misunderstanding. Or, more likely, your Mr Manolli has enough influence to get anything swept under the carpet. At least we _know_ they’re there. Easier to deal with when we know.”

“ _I_ should have known!” The floodgates in Sam’s gentle eyes were opening again. “Why didn’t I _know_ , Dean? Why didn’t he ever _tell_ me?”

“I think he didn’t want to distract you from your work, Sam.”

“ _Distract_ me! I thought he was just getting more and more paranoid, with all the media coverage about disappearances and... I didn’t realise he was.... I thought we were _safe_ here!” He wiped at his face with his fingers and twisted where he sat to look at Dean. “I’d move to a deserted island if he asked me to! He’s _everything_ to me: he always _has_ been! I’d take him anywhere he wants to go to protect him!”

“Going to a deserted island won’t put this world right, Sam. And... I’m not your Dean, but... well, I don’t think it’s _him_ that he wants you to protect.”

Sam frowned in confusion. Dean sighed at him.

“You have a _son_ who’s showing every sign of being an omega, Sam. A _male_ omega. If somebody doesn’t start to stand up and try and do something for them, then what’s _his_ life going to be like? He didn't...want...to _distract_ you.”

His brother stared at him but began to nod his head slowly as he thought: “I need this case, don’t I? I need to win this case to get noticed. To start to get somewhere that people will listen to: start to be able to tell them what’s _really_ going on! To _do_ something!”

Dean smiled and put his arm around the younger man. “How close do you think you are?”

“We need _proof!_ It’s all supposition, all _alleged_. All coincidences that could be easily discounted by a good attourney. We need something, _anything_ , that his lawyers can’t throw any doubt on!”

“We talking weeks or months?”

Sam sighed and buried his face in his hands once more. “For the case? I dread to think. Just one thing: _one_ thing would do!”

Dean sighed: please let it not be months. “Well, at least you know your Dean’s safe. And I’ll try and look after those children, although I wasn’t a fat lot of good earlier...”

“You were _brilliant!_ Mary-Anne will hardly leave your side now! She didn’t want to _know_ about holding _my_ hand when we left the diner! It’s strange how you’ve immediately become part of this family: you _are_ part of this family! It’s as if you always _have_ been somehow!

But... as for my Dean being safe in your world... well... I only thought of it when I noticed the pack by the bedside earlier: it hadn’t even occurred to me, some caring Alpha _I_ am! He’s already missed three nights of his suppressants: it only takes a week without them for an omega’s body to start withdrawing.

He’ll be going into _heat_ in your world soon, Dean. And... it’ll be bad.... He’s gone seven years without one: it’ll be a full-blown heat! With no Alpha there to help him: oh, Our Lady please, _please_ let there be somebody there to help him! Because I can’t risk trying to bring him back here...not with all _this_ going on.”

He was crying again: crying with worry and guilt, and because he just _missed_ his mate _so_ much. Dean rubbed at his back, trying to console him. He wished he knew what to do to help.

Then suddenly to his surprise, Sam was breaking free of his arm around him and turning on the bed, reaching for Dean instead to pull him around and down on his back on the mattress, with the younger but larger man wriggling lower beneath the covers himself and settling with his shoulder beneath Dean’s armpit to allow him to be able to simply lay his head on Dean’s t-shirt covered chest. The steady rhythm of his big brother’s heart filled his ears and his brain: a comfort that he had forgotten he had ever needed.

It was automatic for Dean to put his arm round him again: they had slept for so many years as children in this very position. Until _his_ Sam had decided he was too old to have the protection of his arms around him and insisted on sleeping separately, although, strangely, somehow Dean had always woken up to find his little brother beside him in the bed once more.

“Would you mind if we slept like this, Dean? I don’t mean to keep pulling you around but... I need you. And I’m grateful that you’re here. I just...don’t know what to do.”

He felt, rather than heard Dean snort, and his arm tightened even more around him to give a security that Sam was childishly grateful for.

“We’ll figure it out somehow, Sammy. We always do.

You can count on it.”


	10. Chapter 10

_‘Was that it?_ ’

The words just would not stop going through his head.

All the way back to the bunker that afternoon with Dean slightly squirming beside him on the blanket he had insisted on using to protect the leather seat.

And ever since.

He hadn’t even contacted the other bereaved families to try and find out if any of them had had more to do with their loved ones’ deaths that he had previously realised, although he _had_ tried the number on the card and left a message asking for a response.

 _‘Was that it?_ ’

Now Sam tried to concentrate on helping Dean to chop the vegetables for their evening meal, but those words just would not stop. He knew he wasn’t the most experienced in sexual matters, a _lightweight_ compared to his brother in fact, but he _had_ had several partners, and certainly more than a few offers, so surely....

“We’ve still got some chillies, so perhaps a sweet chilli sauce and noodles...? If that is okay with you?” Dean was talking to him even as he was deftly making... _making!_ .... the pasta mixture. Sam tried to concentrate on watching his brother as he unearthed a mechanical device from the cupboards that the younger man had no idea what it did, and proceeded to roll out the dough thin enough to feed into it.

Sam stalked round the counter to see what he was doing. And to get closer to him as Dean still smelt too damn good despite his immediate shower on their return, his own natural strong meadow-sweet musk breaking through the soap and affecting Sam _far_ too much.

_‘Was that it?’_

Sam watched in amazement as the fresh egg noodles emerged from the recently scrubbed-clean machine as Dean turned the handle: so that was what it did! The older man collected them safely in a bowl and put them aside while he got ready to make the sauce. But even as he reached for the spicy ingredients and the knife, Sam put his hand on his arm to stop him.

_‘Was that it?’_

“What’s wrong? I’m sorry: of course you’d want some meat, you need more than this.” Dean stared at him in consternation, worried that he was doing something wrong.

But then Sam was drawing him into his arms, pulling him close to his chest, putting his hands up to Dean’s face to tilt it gently enough up to look straight up at him, to meet Sam’s eyes with his own. He stared down into his brother’s eyes.

No, not his brother. So very like his brother. Almost indistinguishable from his brother. Apart from the intoxicating scent that had made Sam all but lose complete control of himself that afternoon.

_‘Was that it?’_

And the eyes. Both Deans had the same stunningly beautiful green eyes. But whereas his real brother’s were now always, and had been for far too long a time, weary and down-trodden, and _sad_ , heartbreakingly sad as if he had finally been forced to the conclusion that as a reward for all their sacrifices he would never be allowed to be happy: _this_ Dean’s were...anxious that he had upset Sam somehow, but clear.

Gentle.

Innocent.

Absolutely mesmerising.

Sam knew he shouldn’t feel like he did about this being. He knew he shouldn’t want to... _do_ the things that he wanted to do to something that looked so like his beautiful brother. He knew it would seem weird to any outsider. Because it _was_ weird what had been happening this last few days and especially that afternoon....

_‘Was that it?’_

Oh God, Sam didn’t want that to just be ‘it’. He wanted to hear the smaller man gasp from pleasure and come completely undone beneath him; he wanted to make Dean scream his name and hold him through the shivers of the best climax the man will ever have had in his entire life.

Sam wanted to make Dean beg for him, to beg for more. Because Sam wanted more.

Much more.

“Sam?”

And Dean was looking up at him, questioning what the younger man was doing but without any fear of him. And the way he’d unconsciously licked his lips as he had parted them to say Sam’s name...

Sam was kissing them before he had realised what he was doing, holding Dean’s jaw gently in his large hands. He paused for just an instant, drew back slightly and momentarily, desperate for his brother to give permission, to allow him to continue. If Dean had pulled away, or worse, frozen in his arms, Sam didn’t know what he would have done. Because he now knew he was completely _gone_ over this being that looked so like his brother.

And worse: deep inside himself he knew it was _because_ he looked so much like his brother.

But Dean simply stared up at him, a little surprised but licking at his own lips as if tasting: the sight of his pink tongue causing Sam to leak a little, he was already so hard in his jeans. Then he was reaching up to pull Sam down harder onto his own face and opening his mouth to allow the younger man access with his tongue.

And Sam was pushing him backwards, not hard but enough to trap his body against the counter behind him. And he was still stepping forwards, forcing Dean to spread his legs as there was simply no other space for them to be in between his brother’s long legs and the solidness of the cupboards behind him. And the consequence of that action was that it caused Dean to slip slightly and made it seem necessary for Sam to reach his strong arms around him in supportive response, catching hold of Dean’s denim-covered ass cheeks, pulling his body impossibly even closer until it finally and inevitably was natural for the older man to simply give up the pretence of trying to stand on his own two feet and just allow Sam to pick him up.

And from there it seemed obvious for Dean to wrap his legs around the younger man as Sam began to carry him towards a bedroom, it didn’t matter whose, on pure instinct as their tongues were still fully engaged in exploring each other’s mouths, and both their eyes were closed to heighten every other sense possible, and if they didn’t make it as far as a bed but only to the settee or even the table, then who the hell cared.

But Sam wanted to try and get to a bed. He wanted Dean _beneath_ him in a bed. _Naked_ and beneath him in a bed. So he headed for Dean’s room; the _real_ Dean’s room. And a little piece of his brain smirked at the thought of his brother’s memory foam mattress.

Either this Dean was lighter than his real brother, or the depth of his lust enhanced Sam’s incredible hard-worked-for muscled strength, but they made it safely to Dean’s bedroom with only the slightest of stumbles and a bruised but ignored painful elbow for the younger man as he caught it on a corner. He didn’t care: nothing mattered other than to get his brother onto the bed.

Dean broke the kiss enough to mumble at him to pause while he pulled the immaculately tidy blankets loose and to one side, then Sam was putting him down on the mattress and immediately following him onto the bed, reluctant to leave his lips but at the same time desperate to taste every single inch of the rest of the other man.

Dean reached up to him again only to have Sam hold both of his wrists together in just one of his large hands. “Put them above your head. Keep them there. Just let me touch you.”

The thrill that went through him when his brother simply obeyed the order and arched his back off the mattress to stretch his arms and make contact with the headboard, relaxing completely as he did to let whatever was going to happen, happen, was incredible.

Sam had to get him naked.

He began to pull at Dean’s clothes, undoing buttons and pulling shirts away as quickly as he could, desperate to get to what lay beneath. But then he suddenly halted and simply stared.

 _This_ Dean was unblemished: his warm chest smooth, unscarred, perfect. There were no ragged claw marks, no slits of stab wounds, no bullet-hole shaped scars. For some reason he didn’t fully understand Sam felt he had to hastily check his arm: there was no angel’s handprint branded into his skin. This Dean had never suffered like his brother had done; never sacrificed everything; never went to hell; never was tortured so badly that he had finally broken; never was raised by Castiel to be almost destroyed over again by the weight of guilt about what he had done.

 _This_ one was Dean as he _should_ have been.

Sam braced himself on one arm above his brother…the being that looked so much like his brother…and stared down at him, suddenly overwhelmed by not only that thought, but also at how much he really, truly _loved_ Dean.

And how much he _wanted_ him.

Dean watched him, still with his fingers touching the headboard as he had been told, his shirts bunched around his wrists where they had been pushed up to almost tie his hands together. He could see the swirling emotions in the younger man’s face and simply waited. Then Sam was looking straight down into his eyes, hazel meeting green, an expression of such tenderness and love on the young man that it quite took his breath away. He had never seen such a look on _his_ Sam’s face, and he knew it was only because this Sam was thinking of _his_ Dean. And he felt a little jealous.

Then Sam was lowering himself down to find Dean’s lips with his own again, but even as the other began to reciprocate, he was pulling away and beginning to taste; to tease; to nibble at first one ear lobe then the other, then at Dean’s neck while his hands were also starting to explore; to feel; to stroke; to caress.

Sam licked down towards his brother’s collar bone and felt the only blemish on the otherwise smooth expanse of skin beneath his tongue. He opened his eyes for a proper look and winced as he realised that it was the scar of a bite: a human-sized and shaped bite that had left permanent raised welts at the base of Dean’s neck. It was a vicious and obvious mark and he momentarily wondered why he had never noticed it, before remembering how high this Dean had kept his shirts buttoned right from the start of their meeting.

“What’s this? Why would somebody hurt you like this?”

Dean blinked momentarily to rouse himself from the blissful trance that he had been sinking into and focused on Sam’s anger through half-lidded but lazily watching eyes. “It’s my claiming mark. To show I am mated.”

“So…the other _Sam_ did this? _Deliberately?_ ”

“Of course. When he claimed me. It is visual proof to all other Alphas that I am taken.”

“So it’s proof that he owns you?”

“Well…in a way. I must follow and obey my Alpha in all things once claimed or else face being punished by him. But my Sam is good and caring, Sam, things could have gone much worse for me.”

“Shit! You’re _mated!_ ” He suddenly could hardly speak as guilt flowed through him. “What am I _doing?_ How are you going to explain being with me earlier to the other Sam? Isn’t he going to be angry at you for sleeping with me?”

Dean responded without having to think about the question at all. “You are his equivalent in this world: your scents are too close to be anything but. And yours might be faint but my body is responding to you just as it would do his, I am already soaked with slick again just from kissing you _because_ you smell and taste like him. Just like I was this afternoon.”

And indeed, Sam was becoming overwhelmed with more lust than he ever thought possible as the aroma rose from Dean’s body and covered the sheets and himself. It was stronger even than it had been that afternoon. And he had _never_ been so hard in his life.

_Never!_

“I...you...you think I am no better than a slave, Sam. But an omega _needs_ an Alpha. _Really!_ And here, in this world, that is _you_ ,” Dean was trying to clarify it for him. “You have already commented on the fact that I seem to need constant contact with others. I do need it: Known scents, known touch: it settles me. And I... _like_ your touch. I _need_ your touch. And it would be much worse if I tried to abstain, my Alpha will be fully aware of the consequences of _that_. So don’t worry about my Sam. Worry more about _your_ Dean with _him_.”

And now with Dean’s given permission, Sam gave into his desire and carried on with his exploration of his body, sucking and lapping at his brother’s nipples while his hands roamed everywhere he could reach. Soon enough he realised that his brother hadn’t been exaggerating when he had said he was soaked. He was. Sam could feel the dampness seeping straight through his denims.

Daring to slide his hand inside them, he could feel the stickiness immediately coating his fingers. The memory of tasting it that afternoon sprang at once to his mind: he couldn’t believe it even of himself but he wanted more. Within the next instant he was tugging at the ruined clothes until finally he had his brother as he had wanted him on the bed and was turning him over, manhandling him up onto all fours on the mattress.

He paused for just an instant to admire the sheer beauty of his brother’s body, but _only_ for an instant. Then his mouth and hands were back on it, back _in_ it. His first touch with his tongue was tentative, still aware of what he was doing and who he was doing it with. But as he licked up the inside of Dean’s solid thigh, the unbelievable natural sweetness that the other man was producing was intoxicating, and almost immediately and overwhelmingly addictive.

Any last vestige of embarrassment went driven out of Sam’s mind as he simply _took_.

Took every last bit of the honey-sweet nectar from inside and out of Dean’s body with his mouth and tongue; took advantage of the other’s offered vulnerability by running and touching his hands and fingers along and into every inch of the glorious flesh before him until he had every last bit of it mapped inside his mind, (although this Dean’s lack of having any testicles did cause him to exclaim and panic for a moment); and finally, when his brother’s limbs were trembling and shaking from the effort of holding himself up on them, Sam gently laid him down on his back, covered him with his own larger body, and took more orgasmic pleasure than he had ever thought possible when he buried himself deep within him again and again.

They lay on the mattress together while they each recovered, Sam’s arms and legs wrapped tightly around Dean where he had twisted them over to pull the smaller man to lay half on top of him, reluctant to even allow a current of air to break the contact between their bodies. His brother’s breath wafted rhythmically against his neck and upper chest and his arm lay gently across Sam’s waist to rest his fingers against the prominent hip bone there. And that, Sam thought, is where he _should_ be.

Dean shifted his position a little, trying to get more of Sam’s scent in his nostrils, his hand drawing back a little as he moved to stroke unintentionally across Sam’s groin. The younger man immediately responded, his cock becoming hard and ready to go again from even that slight touch from the other. He moaned from just the thought of being inside Dean again and began to roll over to be on top of him.

“May I? Again?”

“Of course, Sam. Definitely.”

“But you enjoyed it?”

“It was very pleasant, Sam. Yes I enjoyed it.”

Sam raised his head and body up on his elbows and blinked down at his brother. “Very _pleasant!?_ Is that _really_ how you would describe what we just did?”

Dean met his eyes without a flicker of teasing in them. “It was nice, Sam, and you tried to see to my needs. And yes, you can do that to me again, as often as you want while I am here. Actually, I would be grateful if you would. And you are my surrogate Alpha after all: it would not be for me to refuse you anyway.”

“Yes. But…. Did you _want_ that?”

“I _always_ want sex, Sam. I’m an _omega!_ They say that’s why we were created! From the moment we present, our most basic instinct is to breed and that _goes_ with having lots of sex! Luckily we were also created to be very _good_ at it!”

He smirked up at Sam and lazily put his arms around his solid shoulders, using them for support to raise himself bodily off the bed. Sam gasped despite himself as he felt his brother’s lips and teeth against his neck and ears, nibbling and sucking, and teasing him until all he could think about was getting back inside that beautiful body beneath him.

Even as he pushed Dean back down onto the bed and caught at his legs, pulling them high around his own chest although he had the distinct impression that this Dean was _far_ more flexible than he had ever considered possible, Sam was incredulous about how out of control his brother….this _being_ that was the image of his brother…had taken him, and how quickly. He may not want to admit even to himself that he had always had a definite latent desire for Dean, but this lookalike had completely destroyed all his carefully constructed barriers in just a few days.

And this? This _heaven_ as he pushed himself into Dean again? What was going to happen when his real brother came back? Because Sam wasn’t just going to be able to give this up: he already knew that.

Just from this one day, he _knew_ that.

But for now all his attention was returning back to _this_ Dean, as Sam began to thrust into him steadily and the unbelievable pleasure started to build up over the whole of his body again. Sam caught his brother’s gaze and the other returned it without hesitation, his green eyes staring up unblinkingly into his own, perfectly content to allow Sam to take control of both the situation _and_ of him. Sam bent his elbows and lowered himself enough to meet Dean’s lips with his own. They were perfect. This was perfect. _He_ was perfect.

Apart from the fact that he wasn’t really _Dean_.

And then Sam didn’t care about anything at all as he came again with a loud cry and a lot of verbal praise for the other man, and then he had all but collapsed on top of him. Dean kept his legs wrapped round his back as he recovered, making small circles with his hands against Sam’s shoulder muscles. Sam twisted his head enough to feel the welts of the mating mark against his lips. For the first time he suddenly understood: he felt the urge to take possession, he wanted to have been the one to have _put_ that mark there.

He wanted this Dean to be his. And he knew that he wanted his real brother to be his as well.

No matter what.

Despite immediately feeling ashamed at that thought, he carefully sucked at the perfect, smooth skin beside the scar to leave his own, albeit temporary symbol there. Then he got worried that he was crushing the smaller man beneath him and rolled them both over until Dean was laying over him once more, protected by his arms.

Sam fully expected that they would sleep like that, but after a few minutes Dean had slipped out from his embrace and was climbing from the bed. He leant forward to kiss Sam gently then straightened. “I’m going for a shower. Then, would you still like those noodles? They will only take a few minutes once the sauce is prepared.”

Sam caught his hand as he turned to the drawers to find some cleaner clothes. “Dean? That _was_ okay, wasn’t it?”

“Of course, Sam. It was good. But I’m hungry. And sticky.”

“Dean?”

The older man paused and glanced at him, frowning when he saw his brother’s lost-puppy expression. He thought for a moment then sat beside Sam on the bed, fully relaxed in his nakedness, trying to think of how to explain.

“Sam. That was good. I enjoy being with you, and I very much enjoyed what we just did. I want to do it again, as much as you will let me.”

“There’s a but, isn’t there….?” Sam also sat up, inching his long body and the blankets back until he was sitting leant at the top of the bed. “But?” he prompted.

Dean nodded. “But.” He leant forward, pulled the sheets loose until he could see Sam’s now limp and satisfied cock. Before Sam could exclaim at him, his brother bent and kissed it gently before pulling away again. “You have the scent of an Alpha, Sam. But only the body of a male beta. And I am an omega: I need an Alpha. Preferably _my_ Alpha. But… well, unfortunately, any Alpha.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That was good, Sam. I would like to do that, with you, again. In fact, it would benefit me greatly the more we can do that. But if you are expecting me to…. tell you that was the best sex I have ever had, then I would be lying. And I am sorry if you are upset by that. You are good in bed: you tried to make _me_ feel good. Your mouth is very talented.”

“What do you mean, benefit you?”

Dean looked away, tilting his head down as if he had hoped he wouldn’t have to answer. “Regular sex will keep my body from going into heat, Sam. I really mean it when I say that an omega was created to breed: that’s our most basic instinct. At home, I’ve been able to suppress the urge: I already have three children and they keep me occupied enough! So for the last few years, I’ve taken medication so that I haven’t needed to worry. But...since I’ve been _here_... I haven’t been able to take them: I doubt you even have anything enough like them here.” He looked at his feet and sighed. “I’ll soon be going into withdrawal. And, once then...if my body goes too long without…intimate contact, even if it’s only with a beta, then it may well trigger a heat. To try and breed. That’s our blessing _and_ our curse. And for that, I _need_ an Alpha, _seriously_. Preferably my own, who knows just what to do to satisfy me.”

He smirked a little at the thought of _his_ Sam and Sam felt irrationally jealous at his expression.

“But here there _are_ no Alphas. And if an omega can’t get help through their heat from an Alpha, then it has been known to be fatal. Believe me, a full on heat is no laughing matter, Sam. as my body will _want_ to try and breed, it might well drive me a little...uncontrollable.”

“Are you seriously telling me you could _die_ if you don’t get sex?” Sam was incredulous. And somewhat scathing. And more than a little upset at being told that was just ‘pleasant’ when he had just had one of the best experiences of his life.

Dean smiled at his putout expression. “It can happen, Sam. Unfortunately it _does_ happen. Usually in the first heat as it is by far the most dangerous; either the newly presented omega will go mad from the sudden intensity of it and be driven to seek out any Alpha around, no matter who, or sometimes they will have been locked away for their own safety, which is useless if they desperately need help with it!

Believe me, that’s first one’s _not_ fun! At least once you know you _are_ an omega, you can prepare for and deal with it. Luckily dad had had an inclination that I was an omega and had prepared accordingly. And he was a good man: he could have claimed me himself, but he didn’t. He only wanted me safe, no matter what Sam thinks about it.

So if it is okay with you, then we will keep doing that as much as you are able because regular sex will hopefully keep my body fooled enough that it won’t go into full-on heat. And it _will_ be a full-on heat after all these years. _If_ that is alright with you, that is. My Alpha will be grateful that you have kept me alive: believe me, he _will_ be worried about me surviving away from him.”

The smile turned into a lustful leer and he slid fully forward on the bed to corner Sam where he sat, pulling the sheets fully off, straddling his hips with his knees and rubbing his groin against the younger man’s.

“Christ, Dean! How can you already be wanting more?” Although Sam was getting aroused again as well, even despite his hurt feelings. But he had spent all of his life perfecting the locked-out puppy-dog sad eyes and felt that he could turn even this situation to his advantage.

Not that it turned out he needed to, as Dean was obviously already intent on apologising for upsetting him in his own unique way.

He pulled Sam physically down the bed to give himself room to kneel astride him and then rode him with perfect judgement, using his strong thighs to pleasure him until the younger man felt his eyes all but roll back into his head with the force of his climax this time. He really didn’t think he was going to have the energy to get out of the bed for _days_. Then, to his intense disappointment, Dean did almost immediately get out of the bed to disappear to the bathroom without a single trace of discomfort.

Sam heard the shower switch on and sighed: he was so physically drained that he was trembling slightly, he didn’t think he could even stand up without being wobbly on his legs, but he still felt a strong lust-filled desire to go and join his brother beneath the soothing warm water. Instead he lay back beneath the covers and sleepily dozed for a while.

Dean woke him with a tray of warm freshly cooked food on two plates and joined him back in the bed as they ate.

“I could get used to this,” Sam sighed as he finished the delicious noodles and sauce. “You’re a wonderful cook. So’s _my_ Dean: he’d love to learn how to do this.”

“I’ll write my recipes down for him.”

Sam nodded and took the tray to put it on the floor. Dean started to move from the bed again. “I’ll clear it up.”

“No, you won’t.” Sam had his arms around his waist and was pulling him back down into his arms, undoing and removing the last of his brother’s clothes as he did and dropping them over the side of the mattress. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

And with that he was turning the bedside light off as they finally settled down for the night. Dean’s body half covering his own again, his face pressed into Sam’s neck so his lips could gently touch and he was able to scent the warm skin there, his hands wrapped around Sam’s waist just as tightly as his own were around his brother.

Yes, Sam really _could_ get used to this.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one chapter is really why I started writing this work, because I was trying to make sense of the Alpha/omega world in my own head and the story began to weave itself around it in my mind. I so hope this discussion makes sense. Please let me know if it doesn’t!

“Hi Dean: what’cha doing?”

The young man’s mouth snapped shut almost as fast as the laptop lid was snapped shut. Which was _almost_ as fast as the man’s face blushed a brilliant scarlet at being caught looking at what he was looking at.

" _Deeean?_ What are you doing?” Samuel carefully sat down on the couch beside where Dean was sitting and leant across to open up the lid once more so he could see what was on the screen. “What _is_ this? Why are you looking at something like _this?_ ”

Gently he nudged the older man as Dean impossibly reddened even more and cursed himself for not hearing the quiet approach of the boy. How could he have let himself get caught looking at...something like _this?_ And on Samuel’s laptop as well!

Shit.

“Dean?”

Double shit: he wasn’t going to let it go.

“I was just...”

“Just _what?”_ Samuel raised his eyebrows and put on an expression far too reminiscent of the real Sam’s bitch-face for Dean’s liking. He sighed, opened the device fully, and turned it so the young man could see properly.

“I was just trying to work out: I mean, it’s all so confusing... What actually _is_ an omega, Sammy? How can a man have a child? And how can a woman have a... what _is_ a knot? What _is_ it? M-A seems to know, and I haven’t got a _clue!_ What exactly _is_ it that you’re all saying I am?” The words finally came out in a rush.

“Oh Dean. Why didn’t you just _ask?_ Those ‘information’ websites are _useless!_ No wonder you can’t make sense of it, I mean: look at that drawing! You can’t even tell if it’s meant to be male or female! Let alone omega or beta! Here...”

And he was taking his laptop back, shutting it down, and putting it out of the way beside him so he could talk to the man properly. And try and explain the facts of life to someone from another world, which wasn’t something that Samuel _ever_ thought he would have to do! And he didn’t have a _clue_ where to start!

“Okay...” He sat back on the couch while he tried to think...

“ _See!_ This is why I was trying to work it out from _that_ thing! It’s _embarrassing!_ _This_ is embarrassing! Forget it, Sammy: I didn’t mean to put you on the spot here...” Dean was throwing his hands up and moving to get up.

The young man caught his arm and pulled him back down to the seat, leaving his fingers resting on Dean’s thigh so he could feel if the man was going to try and move again. “Yeah, it is,” he agreed. “But it must be very confusing, so...let’s just take it slow. This is all taught in elementary school here, and, I guess, it’s so much a part of life and so interesting to _everybody_ as to what someone is, that it’s...well, something that everyone, even the children, just _know!_

So!” Samuel took a deep breath. “We’ll keep it simple. Well... as simple as I can.” He smiled at Dean, who smiled back at him in gratitude while trying to ignore where his hand was.

“Okay.”

“ _Okay_. Okay..... _Okay!_ There are three sexes here: each with two genders, which are male and female. Until presented, all little girls look the same physically, with one...erm, front opening for peeing and one rear one for erm, well...you get it.”

“But _Sara? She’s_ an Alpha, isn’t she....? How....?”

“Dean...just let me...”

“Sorry.”

The fingers tightened their grip around Dean’s leg.

“And all little boys, well, all _unpresented_ boys, have the same...the same, well, they have an ass hole as well, and a penis.”

“Okay so far: cock and balls, got’cha.”

“No.”

“No?”

Samuel shifted uncomfortably beside him. “No. Only a cock. For peeing, and it also.... well, you know when you find somebody attractive, how it responds on its own without you meaning it to... By the _Moon_ , this is embarrassing! But....no balls. Not yet!”

It was his turn to get very red in the face as Dean sat fully forward and twisted in his seat to stare at him. “Not _yet?_ So... How can you...? How do they..? How...? But you _do_ have them? I mean... somebody here does? The _Alphas?_ ...And you’re telling me that... none at _all?_ And... _you?_ You’re not presented yet, so....”

“No. No, I’ve not. And no, I haven’t got any....yet.” He purposely and studiously stared at his own long legs while Dean stared with amusement at the red bloom that was now covering even his ears and tried to stop himself from smirking: ‘he’s sixteen, he’s sixteen, don’t tease him!’

“So when do you...? So that’s what this _presenting_ does, then?”

“Well, yeah. Until we present, we don’t know for definite what we will be. I mean: we can give all the _signs_ of being Alphas or omegas, but until we finally _present_ then there’s always room for doubt.”

“So...do they just appear? And what’s this knot thing?”

“I’m _try_ -ing to _explain!”_

“Sorry.”

Samuel sighed and tried to carry on with this most _awkward_ of conversations! “I asked dad what it’s like, presenting, I mean. I’ve been waiting and hoping since I was _twelve!_ I’ve been so ready to know what I am: I’m seventeen next month, I’m so _late!_ And anyway, dad said it was like being torn apart and put back together so fast that you don’t even get the chance to feel the pain! It just...happens! Alphas grow...well, that’s when they get their balls...testicles. And their knots of course. It all happens then.

And the female Alphas get _everything_ all at once!” His face crinkled with wonder, enough for him to forget his embarrassment and look up to finally face the man again. “Penis _and_...balls! That must be _weird,_ Dean! I mean, _I’m_ nervous enough about... But how do you deal with a change like _that?_ Although they seem to be fine with it, there’s special...” his face went scarlet once again, “...female Alpha’s underwear that holds everything securely so they can still wear their short skirts and...” he tried desperately to ignore Dean’s unhelpful chuckle at his plight. “Anyway, most are fine with it, I guess everyone _wants_ to be an Alpha, well, most... but a few...well they have it all removed. They don’t like their new silhouette, it doesn’t feel right: they’d rather change to be betas.”

“You mean, like a sex change?”

“Yeah.” He was finally starting to feel the skin on his face cool down, even though he felt like it should be getting warmer from the intensity of Dean’s gaze now on him. He was sitting up and listening with interest, although still with far more than a twinkle of humour for the boy’s liking, watching Samuel with those green eyes that were somehow _far_ more beautiful even than his mother’s.

All the colours of the great forest as it emerged from winter to bloom in the spring, Samuel thought, as he stared back into them: new life awakening.

“Huh.” And Dean dropped his gaze to the young man’s disappointment. The deep lines on his forehead crinkled again as he thought about it: “It all just...grows? How? From _where?_ Is it there before...? Or is it magic?”

Samuel shrugged: “Doctors say it is all there, right from birth. They can x-ray the genital area of babies and see the...balls, or the womb if it’s an omega, lying hidden inside the body waiting until the time of presenting arrives. Dad says, a while ago, the wealthy and celebrities went through a phase of ‘predicting’ what their children would be by having them scanned and making plans, _life_ -plans, for them accordingly. But what they expected and what they got, didn’t automatically follow: Our Lady likes to play games!”

“Our Lady?”

“Our Lady Moon: it is said that only _She_ decides who is Alpha and who is omega. And many people here still believe that: it is all by _Her_ will, and _only_ Hers.”

“Do _you_ believe that, Sammy?”

This time it was the boy who dropped his gaze. “Yes, I do,” he whispered. “And I believe that She will always look after us, as long as we trust Her and follow her Guidance. I bet that sounds crazy to you, huh: that I’m the son of an Attorney yet I have such faith in the spiritual?”

Dean reached to grip the boy’s knee and squeeze it in understanding. “I’m not a believer. Not in _anything_ , Sammy: I’ve seen too many things, _horrible_ things, to do that....but.... Well. I’ve always loved just watching the moon. And the stars. I always have. Just sitting with a beer and watching, and feeling their peace sink through me. So...if I was going to believe in anything, it _would_ probably be in that.”

The young man glanced up at him from beneath his long lashes as a feeling of warmth spread inside him: he had half expected Dean to laugh at him. He wasn’t sure how he would feel if Dean had laughed at him.

But he hadn’t.

“So...omegas? _What_ is an _omega?_ ” Dean removed his hand and sat back on the couch, moving slightly away from the boy so he could lean against the armrest.

“Just as the Alphas change when they present, so do the omegas. The females suddenly have...well another entrance opens...”

“You mean a vagina?” Now Dean couldn’t _help_ but tease him a little and Samuel blushed nearly as red as he had been the few moments before. Dean butted him lightly on the shoulder with his hand, and the boy responded despite himself, turning his body away where Dean was sitting to instead lean back against the older man, so he would be still able to talk without having to face the smirk that he instinctively knew wasn’t going be disappearing for a few moments.

It was automatic for Dean to put his arm around him so they could both sit a little more comfortably. As the boy settled back a little, the man noticed that he was using a new soap that had a natural-spring-fresh, yet also musky and pure scent. Somehow it reminded Dean of his beloved forest in Purgatory and he liked it very much.

“Yeah, the females get a....vagina,” his ears were almost scarlet again as he whispered the word. He felt Dean chuckle behind him and hunched his body a little where he sat, unconsciously letting himself slide down against the man’s chest. ”As do the female betas. Although they don’t get the intense heats that omegas do.

Nor do the male betas get the same intense desire to rut that male Alphas do. Nor the knot of course: only _Alphas_ have a knot. In fact, betas hardly notice it when they present: you know Tim? Of course you don’t, sorry,” as he heard Dean open his mouth to respond. “He’s one of my friends: he used to be the quarterback in the school’s thirteens-and-under, a real Alpha definite if ever there was one. Then one day he came into class really stunned, I’ll never forget it: said he had woken up, went to use the bathroom and discovered that he had grown testicles during the night. And lost most of his scent.

That was it: no fanfare, no feel of a life-changing event. But it _was_ : it _was_ life-changing! He’s a _beta_. Even though he’s still two inches taller than me and works out twice a day, he’s a beta! And I think female betas are the same: they just wake up....and it’s happened without them realising. They don’t get the intense passion, nor will they ever get the bond of mating...but at least they can walk around freely without being terrified all the time.”

He sighed. Dean tightened his arm around him as he knew the boy was now thinking of his mother and the intimidation that the other Dean had been having to put up with. They sat together in silence for a long moment.

Finally the older man broke it: “So, omegas get vaginas when they present, and...what? Wombs? Uterus’s? Uteruseses? Is that even the right word? Ready to have children?”

Samuel considered. “I’ve never thought about it: I think the womb must already be there somehow. It’s just the... manner of getting to it that everyone gets excited about!”

Dean chuckled again at the tone of the young man’s voice: “Thinking dirty thoughts there, eh, Sammy?”

“No....! I!” Once more his face turned red. Dean leant up enough to nudge at his back with the top of his chest with amusement.

“At your age, I’d be more worried if you _weren’t!_ ”

“ _Anyway!_ ” Samuel tried to recover himself. “When omegas present...They get desperate for sex, really wild. And they produce slick, Dean. It’s...the scent of it. And the taste apparently. It drives Alphas wild. I supposed that’s what’s it meant to do, from our animal ancestry: an omega has a heat roughly every twelve months or so that can last anything up to a week. Without suppressants to stop it occurring or birth control during it, they would be bound to be pregnant by the end of it. Gestation period lasts about six months, so the pup or pups would be roughly six months old when the omega hits their next heat. That’s how it used to be. And omegas could have _huge_ families: the sixties and the sexual revolution was a real god-send for them!”

He sighed again. “Well, at first, anyway. Now it seems it just opened up new ways to abuse them. There’s also medication, meant to be illegal, but it can be used to keep them deliberately in a state of permanent heat, just keeps them drugged up. Heat really is almost a state of madness. Dad says that mom can get really.... almost _aggressive_ when he’s in heat, _he’s_ thrown _dad_ around physically, demanding he...well, let’s put it this way: omegas can _take_ , and certainly  _expect_ , a _lot_ of sex. Dad says mom’s _exhausting_ to be with when he’s on heat!

That’s why Alphas will pay, really pay, _huge_ sums of money to have sex with them when they are on heat, and knot them, without the risk or responsibility of them being able to get pregnant.

The less omegas in society; the higher the price to sleep with them. The higher the price: the more that omegas are getting snatched and either forced, or just drugged so that they’re out of it, to be used as sex workers. It’s got to be stopped. Somehow.”

He fell silent. Dean sat up straight behind him and leant forward enough to see around to his face. Samuel’s eyes were full of emotion: both from the terrible unfairness of this sick society, and from the added worry of having one, if not _two_ , members of his family actually _being_ what everyone else in this world wanted.

And would take without hesitation, given half a chance.

“So... this knot thing? What is it? I know in my world, there’s wolves. And the males have something that is called a knot for when they breed: their...em...” it was _Dean’s_ turn for his face to again change colour to a slight pink, “well, they get larger inside the female as they mate until it locks into place for a while, literally holding him in there to try and ensure that she can only get pregnant by him.”

“Exactly.”

The man pushed the boy slightly forward so he could sit up enough to see his face openly. “ _Exactly?_ Is that what a knot here means as well? That...during sex, the....”

“An Alpha’s, yes. That’s what an Alpha is. Both male and female. But yes, their...penis’s are different: to betas, and to mine as it is at the moment. _Theirs_ have ridges that expand out during sex, you know, really expand, at least double the original width, and tie them inside the omega for anything from a half hour upwards, depending on the couple. And the stretch of the knot growing inside them forces the omega’s cervix to be uncovered: it’s the only time it is, when they’re being knotted, and _only_ a knot will do that. No beta could _ever_ get an omega pregnant: it’s not possible.

Nor could a beta ever _take_ a knot: it would rip them apart internally and do a lot of damage, that’s why it doesn’t happen. Sometimes, in porn stories,” Dean snorted but otherwise remained silent, “Alphas and betas will try, or _pretend_ they do, by using slick sold from the sex trade: another expensive and disgusting commodity stolen from abused omegas, in attempts to simulate the scent and feel of an omega, but the risks of the beta being seriously hurt trying to take a knot inside them would be immense.”

They both fell silent. Samuel was trying to cool himself down: he still felt as if his facial cheeks were burning.

And Dean was just trying to digest all of this information.”But...? Didn’t your dad tell me that Alphas and betas can have babies...erm, pups? How then...?”

The young man considered. “Again, sometimes in porn films...”

“You seem to know a lot about porn films, Sammy! Something I should know?”

“Shut up.” He was blushing again. “Sometimes, the Alpha will say ‘I’m going to knot you now’, as if it’s something that can be controlled... so, the act of knotting must not be necessarily inevitable: to some extent it must be a conscious act, and without it being expanded, then I guess they’re just...well, equipped like ordinary male betas and produce sperm when they come without it exactly the same. I’m not really sure, Dean: these are all things I’m hoping to find out. I can’t _wait_ to find out.” He straightened himself up and turned in his seat to finally be able to look directly at the other.

But the man didn’t seem to be listening momentarily. “That explains something.”

“What?”

“Something your dad said to me a couple of nights ago, it don’t matter now. And you!” He now met Samuel’s eyes with a genuine grin: “One day you will meet a beautiful omega and mutually find out everything you need to know about the subject. She’ll be worth waiting for, I know it.”

He leant back once again to rest against the arm of the small couch. Samuel bit his bottom lip and muttered something to himself that sounded suspiciously like he had _already_ found a beautiful one and he was _definitely_ going to be waiting.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing. Has that helped? Does any of it make sense?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it really has: Alpha and omega together equal a knot, Alpha and beta ... equal _not!_ ”

Despite himself the boy burst out laughing. “Well, that’s one way of putting it! I should have just started with that!”

“That’s been brilliant, Sammy, thank you. You always look after me.”

The young man beamed with pleasure and looked as if he was going to say something more, but they were interrupted by the door to the living room slamming open and Johnny charging like a miniature, human-sized whirlwind into the room to wave a piece of paper at them both.

“ _There_ you are! You said you’d help me with my list for the spelling bee rounds tomorrow!”

Somehow he was squeezing into the non-existent space between Dean and the armrest, forcing the man to move up enough to make room until his leg was pressed fully against Samuel’s on his other side.

Dean laughed and took the list off him. “Okay, let’s see what you’ve got: ‘insufficient’, ’inconceivable’, ‘anti-establishment’. How _old_ are you again? _I_ can’t spell these! And how many are there? We have to learn all _these?_ ”

“You said you’d help.” The youngest son had perfected the pout as well: Dean suspected they had all been practising it since he had arrived.

“And I will.”

“What are you all _doing?_ ” Mary-Anne was also now erupting into the room. “I was going to ask if I could have some more of your corn tortillas: they were _yummy!_ But why are you all in _here?_

She was climbing on Dean’s lap as she spoke, forcing him to rescue the list of printed words before she squashed it, and Samuel to hurriedly put his laptop down to the floor before she kicked it off anyway, and for Johnny to groan at her with annoyance. “This is my school work! For the _spelling_ bee! Go away!”

“I can help! Give _me_ a word, Dee!”

“Nuisance!”

“N...U...W....”

“That’s _wrong!_ ” “That’s what you _are_ , little sis!” “Okay, everyone stop wriggling: we’re going to break the couch!” “I need to _learn_ these! Dean, make her go away!” “Is she ticklish? Reckon that will make her go?” “ _Nooooo!_ ”

Sam stood in the doorway and couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them all.

And at the noise they were making!

He wanted to talk to Dean but it could wait a few minutes. He had just received a call from his boss: their ‘contact’ had suggested that Mr Manolli was sending his men to a warehouse that evening to make a trade of some sort. The information didn’t say exactly what, but he thought it was important enough that the man himself might be there. Sam’s office were in touch with the police to go and stake it out, but they wanted the informant there to give as many details as possible, and _he_ had asked for Sam to be there with him in the form of both legal assistance and moral support.

This might be it. This might be the break in the case that he needed. If he could get enough definitive and irrefutable proof that would get this case to court and _win_ it, then he could finally concentrate on getting his Dean back and helping this one get home.

But even as the sound of laughter in the room, and the little girl’s squeals of excitement, filled his ears, he wasn’t sure he wanted to do that.

He not only _liked_ this Dean, it was as if he had completed the family somehow. He had immediately been accepted by them all as a definite part of their lives. As much as he loved _his_ Dean, he didn’t want to lose this _new_ one.

Sam wanted them both.


	12. Chapter 12

Sam could see the rage glinting in Dean’s eyes once more as the woman paled. He didn’t have to ask why: he could see the guilt in her face the moment she had seen the card in his hand just as obviously as his brother could smell it in her scent.

When he and Dean had entered that old factory cellar, they had thought they had been looking for a monster, probably a werewolf, which had been committing random killings. _Now_ he knew that there were two of them, as well as something else... and that ‘something _else_ ’ was taking payment to kill people deliberately.

And viciously.

“So what can you tell me about this card?”

He had already guessed: she had got bored, wanted rid of her husband without losing half of her whole life in a messy divorce, had openly, and _loudly_ , berated her miserable lot in a night’s drinking with her best friend, and had found the card with the hand-written number on it in her locked car the next morning.

But she had _never_ expected his death to be so violent. She had never meant _that_. They had to _believe_ her!

It was at that point that Dean had got up and walked out, leaving the woman staring after him with a definite expression of yearning on her face.

Sam sighed and followed his brother out to the car. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw him leaning against the Impala waiting for him: his head turned to see if Sam was following, hands resting on the roof in a very Dean-like pose. Just like the last time, anger had made him momentarily forget his terror of just about everything!

But, then, as a solitary passerby began to walk along the sidewalk between them, Sam could see Dean physically flinch and start to look nervous once more. He hurried to get to him, and to open the car door so his brother could get in and shut out the world.

“Where to next?”

Sam was by now sitting in the driver’s seat beside him. He shrugged: “Back to Kansas City. That’s where the second victim was: first one here in Topeka, then the one in Coffeyville. God, I wish we could have caught it, or at least one of them. Whatever it is doing this, it has links in this area. The next one could be anywhere! All we can do though is go back and talk to the victim’s wife again. And find out if _she_ recognises that card!

But he already knew she would.

Kansas City was a good couple of hours away. “You driving?”

He laughed fondly as Dean almost choked in his excitement: “ _Me!_ You’d _let_ me?!”

“You _can_ drive?”

“Oh yes! But I haven’t done for _years!_ Dad always let me, and Uncle Bobby, but... “

“Omegas don’t drive?”

Dean sighed. “No, it’s not that. I mean, we _can_ , I have my licence, well...had, but... it’s unsafe for an omega to be on their own, I mean...what if the car broke down....so... well, Sam’s always with me when we go out and he tends to drive, and I and Annie walk the kids to school anyway as it’s only a couple of blocks, so...it’s....” His words trailed off, but his regret was evident. And intense.

Sam caught for his hand with his own and held it tightly for a moment. “I’ll go round, you slide over.” And he did, opening the Impala’s door and walking round to instead get in the passenger’s side as Dean moved over to the driver’s seat. He sat and simply ran his hands around the steering wheel for a few moments, relishing the feel of it beneath his fingers.

“You remember how? That sounded wrong...I meant...did you ever drive this car before? She’s got her quirks!”

He fell silent at Dean’s expression: there was just so much love in it as he gazed at the dashboard. “Hell, yeah. I learnt to drive in her: well, dad’s version of her. I used to dream...” He stopped speaking and chewed at his lower lip suddenly.

“Dream what?”

“Once I’d presented. For a long time, right up until Sam... and after...” Again he paused, but Sam remained silent, patiently waiting. Finally Dean continued, without looking round at him: “I used to dream about her being mine, just us: just my Baby and me, able to drive where we wanted, go anywhere we liked. Without anybody being able to force me, or claim me...

Sam’s dream has _always_ been to settle down, set down roots, have stability. Me: I liked the wandering from job to job, somewhere different every week, even when we were at school. No ties. It mattered even more once I’d... even with suppressants, dad felt he had to always be there in case. Took me out of school as soon as it was legal to. Used to take me to his jobs with him, leave Sammy to take care of himself: I would go and help him work, or watch, or just stay in the locked car out of harm’s way....just Baby and me.

I used to _dream_ about just taking her and running so far that nobody would _ever_ be able to find us again.”

He shook himself out of his memories and glanced at Sam with some embarrassment: “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” The other was sliding over, putting his arm around Dean’s shoulders and pulling him into his arms. “You’ve nothing to be sorry about: from what you’ve told me about your world, being an omega must be a pressure that _anyone_ would want to run from.”

His arms tightened further as he felt the soft sigh ripple through his brother’s body: “Sounds stupid, even to me. But as much as I cried for dad when Uncle Bobby called me about the crash, I cried nearly as many tears for my Baby because now the dream could never happen. Stupid, huh?”

“No. Not stupid at all.” Sam nuzzled into his soft short hair with his lips, peppering Dean’s scalp with small but heartfelt kisses. “I _mean_ that. It’s not stupid at all.”

He gave his brother a few minutes to recover himself then released him from his arms and moved back to sit nearer the door. “You still good to drive....? Or, you can rest, if you’d prefer....and drive back tomorrow?”

“We’re not returning to the bunker tonight?” Dean was scrubbing at his face, still turned away from the younger man, but then resolutely putting both hands back on the steering wheel.

“It’ll be late. And I want to catch this thing...these things, Dean. I was thinking....well, do you think you could bear being in a motel with me? I’ll be right there with you! We’ll lock the doors tight: no one will get in! But... we’ve got to catch what’s doing this. And that means being close, or closer at least to where it’s going to strike next. Do you think you could do that for me?”

His face dimpled into a wide smile as Dean looked round at him and nodded, although he looked a bit nervous and unsure about the idea of staying in the city.

Then he was starting the Impala. Sam’s smile impossibly widened further at the look of....more than love: it was adoration, and reverence...and deference, all rolled into one rapt expression on Dean’s face as the deep sound of the powerful engine purred it’s greeting to his touch. It was, in fact, a look he had seen on his real brother’s face many times in exactly the same scenario, and never appreciated at all.

Although he tried not to make it obvious, the only times he managed to look out of the window for the next two hours was to give Dean directions when he asked: otherwise his attention was _fully_ concentrated on absorbing every detail of the driver. The small smile that played around Dean’s lips from the moment he had pulled away from the kerb; the light of freedom that shone in those green eyes even if it was only for the duration of the journey: the first time, Sam realised, that the other man...being...had finally and fully relaxed since he had arrived those few days ago. Even when they had been in bed together the night before, he had still been slightly tense, too happy to immediately comply no matter what: still unsure of what might be expected from him, and the consequences, if any, for doing something wrong.

But here, behind the steering wheel of the Impala, he seemed to be where he belonged: more than that, it was as if, just for once, he could simply be _ordinary_. And Sam determined to himself that, while Dean was with _him_ at least, he was _always_ going to feel like that.

Although, as he studied his brother’s face closer, noticing just how impossibly long his eye lashes were, and how just-freshly-budded-leaves-in-spring green his eyes seemed to be from this side angle, and how soft and lush, and lickable, his lips were, then the more aroused Sam found himself getting. Which, considering he was still in his FBI suit and meant to be interviewing a witness in the next half hour or so, wasn’t really something that should have been happening.

As they reached the outskirts of Kansas City, he forced himself to study the road and give Dean the final directions of their destination, all the time being now hunched slightly in his seat as he tried desperately to think unsexy thoughts. It didn’t help that Dean immediately noticed and chuckled: the deep sound vibrating through the seat and the car itself to concentrate somewhere in Sam’s body that was not helpful at all.

“You want to find a motel first?”

 _God_ , Sam recognised that lustful smirk! And although this was the first time that it had ever been used on _him_ , his legs seemed to turn to jelly and he finally understood why it had got his brother into the bedroom of so many ladies.

“Nope.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Because if we _did_ , then we wouldn’t be leaving the room again until the morning! So let’s just get this over with.” And he turned away to determinedly stare out the window, trying to ignore Dean’s genuine roar of laughter....

She didn’t react at all when he showed her the card.

Sam glanced over at Dean, who was just sitting in an offered easy chair watching her, although Sam now knew him well enough to know that he was innocuously scenting each and every single thing in the room. Then his attention was drawn back to the new widow.

“I don’t understand? Why are you showing me this? What is this?” She seemed genuinely confused.

Sam put on his gentle puppy-dog expression: “We were just wondering, madam. There have been a couple of deaths similar to your husbands, and in each case, this card has been.... connected. Are you sure that you don’t recognise it at all? Or seen anyone else with something like this?”

She shook her head and stared at him blankly. Then they were all startled by the front door opening and banging shut. “Richie! Is that you?”

A boy of about twelve years old appeared in the living room doorway, his school bag still thrown over his shoulder. “ _What?_ ” Both brothers winced at the surliness aimed towards the recently bereaved woman.

As did she. “Did....did school go okay? You can still stay home tomorrow if you prefer...”

“I’m _fine_. Leave me alone!”

“And you are...?” Sam forced himself to remain calm and composed, although he was aware of a sudden twitching in his right palm.

“This is my son, Richie. He’s just upset about Jason and what hap.... It’s put a tremendous strain on us both.” She was getting tearful again: Sam moved closer to her in an attempt at reassurance.

“I’m sure it must have. I’m very sorry to hear about your father, Richie.”

“He wasn’t my _father!_ ” This was accompanied by the boy suddenly rushing out the room, followed by the solid thump of weighty school bag forcibly slamming down on the table in the kitchen and the tinkling sound of whatever he had so roughly swept off it smashing against the floor. Sam stared after him in surprise at the malice.

So did his mother: “I’m so sorry, he’s been so upset.... _Really!_ I told him not to go back today but he insisted... ”

“May I...?” Dean was getting to his feet and motioning as if he would follow the boy. The woman nodded as a tear finally trickled down her cheek. Dean glanced at Sam with a look that the younger man interpreted as an obvious ‘stay here’ but didn’t understand why, and left the room.

He didn’t know what to say to comfort the woman, but he tried. Then they sat in silence for a few moments, waiting for his brother’s return.

Then they both became aware of the silence in the kitchen as well.

“Excuse me.” The new widow was getting up and hurrying through the passageway to the door. Sam hastily got to his feet to follow.

The kitchen was empty.

But the back door was ajar, and the murmur of voices could be heard from outside. “What the...?” She glared angrily at Sam and crossed the room, flinging the door wide open.

Only to come to an immediate halt as she stared outside at the back porch.

Richie was sitting on the wooden floor, crying his eyes out. Dean was crouched easily down on his haunches across from him, close enough so he could hear the boy’s story through his sobs, but not close enough to have physical contact. He glanced up as the lady started to come out of the house. “What are you doing? Why are you upsetting my son? How _dare_ you....!!”

She was silenced by the man’s look at her, then Dean glanced back at the sniffling boy: “Richie? You got something you want to say to your mom? Something that you’ve wanted to get off your chest since this happened...?”

Richie’s face jerked up to look at him, his expression showing total panic. But Dean’s voice was calm as he continued speaking. “You wanted to tell your mom how sorry you are; that you miss your step-father more than you ever realised you would, and now it’s too late to tell him that... he was actually _okay!_ ”

“Richie?” She was hesitant as she looked down at the man and her son.

But now the boy was jumping to his feet to face his mother and talking, _gabbling_ even, in his desperation to say what he needed to.

“I’m _sorry_ : I really, really _am!_ I’m _so_ sorry! I was always so _horrible_ to him! And he taught me to swim! And took me to tennis every week without fail! _And_ football training! And he’d promised he was going to teach me to drive and I know he would have, because _he always_ kept his promises!! And helped me with my homework! And all I did was resent him because he wasn’t my real dad, because my _real_ dad was never _there!_

And I really, really _miss_ him! And I know you do as well! And he made you happy, despite me being so....such a little obnoxious shit! And now I can’t tell him how sorry I am! It’s too _late!_ ”

“Oh, Richie...”

And she was bursting into tears even as she embraced him, and he was crying again in her arms, and Sam and Dean glanced at each other and excused themselves with an unheard murmur to let themselves unnoticed back out of the front door.

“Well, that was a bust.” Sam commented as he got back in the car, automatically settling himself behind the steering wheel.

His brother glanced across and held something out in his hand. Sam stared at the card for a moment, then realised. Hurriedly he searched in his own pocket for the one that he had been showing the lady and pulled it out.

Definitely the same: _two_ of them!

He felt a little hazy as he looked across at Dean, who was trying not to smirk but failing miserably. “The boy....?”

The man’s expression faded to be replaced by sadness: “The guilt...and shame....that poured off that boy the minute you mentioned his stepfather: I knew immediately. And he only denied it for a moment, then he just sat and cried: it was such a relief for him to admit it. That poor lad’s going to have to deal with that the rest of his life....”

“Why?” Sam was still slightly stunned: the boy had arranged for his mother’s new husband to be killed?

Dean shrugged: “Jealousy? A child’s determination to see the ‘wicked stepfather’, no matter what? His dad deserted the two of them for his secretary, but his mom had found happiness again. She thought she had found it for them _both_ , but...

Anyway, he said he ran away one night last week, to show her. Only got as far as two blocks down, had begun to head back, knew he was being ridiculous. A tall man approached him, began to ask questions. Said he remembered how much he had hated his own step-mother, until he had ‘stopped’ her. Gave him the card, told Richie to call if he wanted his problem to go away.

Richie went back home. His mom was surprised when he walked in through the door: she hadn’t even realised he’d gone out! But did he want milk and cookies? He went upstairs and called then and there.

He never meant what happened though. Poor kid.”

“Poor _kid?_ That little....”

“He’s got to live with it, Sam.” Dean was watching the younger man as he all but banged the dashboard with his fists. “Every day, for the rest of his life, he’s gonna look at his mom, see her grief, remember how happy she _was_ , and debate with himself as to whether he should tell her or not.

And his real dad’s not even bothered to call _once_ , to see if they’re okay. Poor kid.”

Sam pulled himself together: in his mind, all he could see was what had been left of that poor _man_ after whatever it was had finished with him. Poor kid, his ass! “So, could you get a description of the man with the card?”

“Tall. Really tall. Thin. Thin in features, thin in form. Dark clothes, and a long coat, like an overcoat. And he spoke quietly, but Richie felt... he said that even as he was telling him what was wrong he knew he shouldn’t be, but he couldn’t stop himself. Said it was as if the man was pulling his words out from his very head. I didn’t really get what he meant by that, Sam.”

“He was _controlling_ him.” Now Sam was leaning forward with interest. “Remember what Russell told us, about not being able to stop himself from entering the alleyway? What sort of creatures can control someone’s mind like that?” He was working down a mental list by now. “Shit, that doesn’t really narrow the field down much.”

“Could it be controlling the werewolves as well? Even making them change when they shouldn’t be able to?”

“Yeah... _Yes!_ ” Sam slapped his thigh with the flat of his hand and turned with a beaming smile to face Dean. “So this is something really powerful! _Really_ powerful! Demon? Nah: they’d do the killing themselves! Witch? Warlock? We’ve met some pretty frightening specimens of both of those... Something that’s strong enough to use _weres_ to kill on request. Jesus.

Let’s go and find a motel, grab something to eat and then get on with some research!”

His excitement had diminished somewhat later that evening when he hadn’t found anything useful on his laptop. Out of habit, he had booked a room with two queen beds, although he was really hoping that they might only need the use of one, and they had so far forgone dinner to try and work out what it was they were facing.

Or rather, what _he_ was facing, as there was no _way_ that Dean was coming face to face with something as evil as this. No, _Dean_ was going to be locked in the motel or the car, circumstances depending, safe out of any harm’s way: Sam was already _determined_ of that.

“Do you want to eat here? Or do you think you’d be alright in a diner?”

Hs question was actually answered by his brother paling and shrinking back into himself a little as loud conversation was heard from people walking past their outer door. “Okay!” Sam clapped his hands together, making the other start slightly. “Eating in, it is! You lock and bolt this behind me: I’ll knock and let you know when I’m back. Would you like a beer with your meal? No?” As Dean frowned at him with distaste. “Black coffee, it is. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

He was as good as his word, returning with two containers of steaming hot food: fish curry and rice for Dean, and beef in blackbean sauce for himself. As well as a six pack of beer and, the very last item to be bought, a disposable cup full to the brim with freshly made coffee.

He had just re-entered the motel room, put the food down on the table, and handed the drink to his brother when two things happened simultaneously.

One was that Sam heard the sudden noise of wings behind him in the room and knew immediately who and what it was.

The other was that Dean suddenly leapt out of his seat in alarm, spilling the entire contents of his fresh and steaming-hot take out coffee down himself in the process, and moved fast enough to be a blur to hide behind Sam in the locked motel room.

Cas was already talking as he landed: “Sam, I heard your prayer yesterday but I couldn’t leave....What...? Sam! Be _careful!_ ”

And exactly as he saying this and staring at the other, Dean was grabbing at Sam’s arm from complete terror. “Sam, what is it? What _is_ that thing?”

And above the noise of them both, Sam was turning in a panic and grabbing for his brother’s shirt: “Shit, Dean! You’ve burnt yourself! Take that off now and let me see!”

“Sam. That’s not _Dean!_ ”

“I know, I _know_ , Cas. That’s why I contacted you. But that can wait....Dean? _Dean!_ ” He was trying to get the smaller man’s attention away from the angel and on to him. Dean was transfixed in shock by the seemingly magical arrival of the being and was frozen into staring at him. “Dean! Forget _him_ , look at me! Look at _me_ , Dean! Dammit Cas, you stay where you are,” as the angel began to step forward. “ _Dean!_ ”

He was to the point of shaking his brother when his words seemed to get through and Dean finally turned enough to stare up at him. “What is that thing?” he whispered.

“He’s a friend, Dean, but you’ve burnt yourself. Take this off and let me see.” He was already undoing his brother’s outer shirt, trying to get it loose enough to pull Dean’s undershirt up so he could see the damage done by the almost boiling drink.

“But what _is_ it?” Dean didn’t seem to care if he was hurt: he was far more afraid of the strange being that had so suddenly materialised in their room than to even register the pain, and went back to staring at it nervously.

“Sam? What is that? Why does it look so much like Dean? Is this why you called me? Where _is_ Dean?”

“I don’t know, Cas. He went and this one arrived! And you’ve just frightened the shit out of him!” He had finally succeeded in undoing the buttons on the top shirt and was pulling it and the t-shirt beneath off the smaller man, desperate to see how much damage the scalding hot drink had done, while Dean stood there motionless, allowing himself to be undressed like a child: he was so anxious about not taking his eyes off the angel just in case.

Sam swore as he saw the large patch of increasingly angry looking reddened skin and already a couple of blisters expanding with the promise of more to follow. “Shit! Cas, can you heal him please? Then we can talk.”

Castiel stared at Sam but nodded: he trusted him enough to follow his lead. He began to move forward so he could touch the....thing that looked like his friend but wasn’t...but it had other ideas and hastily backed away from his approach, tearing its arms out from Sam’s grip as it did and backing as far into the corner of the room as it could get.

Sam swore again. “Its okay, Dean. All he’s going to do is touch you and that will take the pain away, I promise.”

“No, no, no, no,no....What _is_ it?” And they could both see that the Dean look-alike wasn’t going to come out from the corner without putting up a panicked fight. Castiel paused and looked at Sam, waiting calmly even though inside him he felt anything but calm: where was his friend?

“Okay.... Okay.” Sam was trying to get his own pounding heart under control. “Cas. Please just sit on that bed over there. I’ll explain in a minute. Dean? I’m going to get a cloth and some cold water: you’ve badly burnt yourself. Did it get anywhere lower than your chest?”

But he sighed as he was again ignored by the other man, who was still watching each and every non-movement that Cas was making. So instead he hurried to grab a towel and soak it in cold water, returning almost immediately to place it gently against Dean’s naked chest.

Dean immediately shivered as the cold combined against the pain of his burns to finally begin to make their presence felt through his shock and fear of the being that could just arrive in an instant in the middle of a newly locked and bolted room. For the first time he looked down at himself to see the increasingly blistering skin. He immediately whimpered and was grateful to feel Sam’s strong arms wrap around him protectively.

Castiel sat on the bed as he had been told to and watched without understanding. He understood even less when Sam moved his large hand to the chin of the being that looked like his brother but wasn’t, and gently made him look up at him. Then he stared as their lips met, the kiss initiated by the younger man. A deeply passionate kiss that Cas not only felt uncomfortable about witnessing, but he suddenly had the sudden and strangest emotion inside himself: it should be _him_ kissing Dean. Even if it _was_ only a copy of him.

But Sam was now talking to him. To them both.

“Cas? I don’t _know_ where Dean is. We were in a basement: he said ‘what’s that thing that’s glowing’? He picked it up, there was a bright flash of really intense light and then _he_ had gone, and _this_ Dean was here! And he _is_ Dean: from another dimension, but he’s not human. I don’t know how it happened: I’ve really got no idea. But from what this one’s been telling me about where he comes from, Dean’s really in trouble there. That’s why I tried to contact you to ask if you had any ideas.

And Dean?” He had been gently pressing the cold towel to his brother’s chest all through this monologue. “Cas is _my_ Dean’s best friend. And mine come to that. And he’s an angel. He can take this pain away if you’d let him. It’s okay, honestly. Just let him touch you.”

But the older man was shaking his head and trying to back away again as Cas stood up and carefully approached. Sam held onto him tightly and sighed. “Okay then, cream, clingwrap and covering bandages it is. Cas, could you pass me the medical bag please.”

Cas looked round for the bag and handed it over, but then sat on the bed nearest to the other two men. His eyes narrowed as he stared at Dean: “You _are_ him. But not. His soul is the purest, brightest light that I have ever seen. Yours is as pure, but golden. It’s almost dazzling… just as blinding as his…. How can there _possibly_ be two such beings as perfect as Dean?”

The older man stared at him nervously but he was listening, his hand still tightly clutched into Sam’s shirt, ready to run behind him if necessary.

The angel continued as calmly as he could: “I’m sorry I startled you. But I would like to help if you’d let me, that looks very sore.” Hesitantly he reached out to the man’s bare torso, and the blistered and already bursting skin. “Please.”

“Its okay, Dean. Let him.” Sam murmured into his brother’s ear. He moved to put his arms around Dean again, this time to hold him in position as Castiel’s fingers brushed against the burns.

Dean winced, tensed, then jerked in amazement as the fresh wounds all healed without a trace that they had ever been there. “What the?”

He examined himself, forgetting that he was nervous of Cas in his astonishment at what had just happened. Then he was trying to back up as the angel was suddenly standing in his personal space apparently equally as intent on exploring every inch of the beautiful shirtless torso, but found himself trapped against Sam’s solid wall of a body.

“Relax, Dean. Ssh…” The young man was whispering soothingly as the strange newcomer in the trenchcoat ran his hands gently all over him. Dean shivered a little and Sam pulled him closer to his own chest, leaning over him a little to let the smaller man be able to scent him.

Then Castiel stood back: reluctantly, Dean thought. “How can this be, Sam?”

“I was hoping _you’d_ have some ideas, Cas. I’m stumped. And worried like hell about Dean. _My_ Dean, I mean. We’ve got to swap them back somehow, but I’ve no idea how!”

“ _Our_ Dean, Sam.”

The two friends stared at each other as mutual understanding passed between them. Then Sam smiled. “We’ll get him back, Cas.” His voice was soft.

Dean looked at them both, he was still penned in by the bodies of the two other males, and although he was less fearful of the new arrival as he had been just a few minutes ago, he still didn’t like him being quite so close. There was something...something at the back of his nostrils...something he didn’t understand....something... “May I have my shirt?”

“These are soaked with coffee.” Sam recovered himself enough to move to the bag he had packed for his brother and rummage in it for clean clothes. Finding a t-shirt and checked overshirt, he tossed them over and Dean hastily covered himself up again, removing himself to the other bed as far as he could get from the mysterious stranger.

Sam sighed and handed him his containers of food, while he himself began to tell Castiel the whole story.

But he hadn’t got very far when there was an interruption caused by his cell phone ringing.

It was the tall, thin, mysterious man with the murderous intent, responding to his message from the previous day. So... who did he want to have killed?


	13. Chapter 13

“But _why_ can’t I go?”

“For the fifteenth time: I don’t want you getting hurt! Which is why, you’re... staying... _here!_ ”

Sam sighed as he once again checked his bag: he and Cas didn’t know what they were going to be facing, so he had a selection of everything he could think of.

And he was glad that the angel had appeared in time to give him support against whatever this was, because he had been seriously worried about leaving Dean alone in the motel just in case he didn’t make it back for whatever reason....

Not that Dean was seeing it that way.

“But you’ll need _my_ help! If these betas are there, then so should _I_ be! If they listen to anyone, then it’ll be _me!_ ”

“For the sixteenth time! _No!_ You are to lock and bolt this door behind us, and not open it until one or the other of us returns!”

That was the wrong thing to say: he realised as he said it, that _that_ was the wrong thing to say.

“But... _you_ have to come back! What if you don’t come _back?_ Sam, _please_ don’t go! Or at least let me come: you _can’t_ face this thing on your own.” Dean’s eyes were filling with tears, exaggerating their colour with shimmering intensity, turning them into two individual lagoons of the most idyllically green tropical sea. His lower lip began to tremble with emotion at the thought that his brother was putting himself into such danger without him and he looked at Sam with such an upset expression on his face that the younger man felt his heart break.

He hurried to console him. “Of _course_ I’ll be returning, Dean! Especially now I have Castiel to watch my back!”

 _That_ was wrong as well.

“ _I_ would have just got in the way, wouldn’t I? You never really wanted me with you at all, because I’m a liability, aren’t I?” The tears were threatening to spill over: Sam was ready to swear that they would leave green trails down his brother’s cheeks as there was just no _way_ the natural colour of his eyes could be that vivid.

“You’re _not_ a liability! I just don’t want you getting _hurt_ , that’s all!”

“No, I’m _useless_. You think I’ll let you down: you can’t trust me to help.”

“I _do_ trust you to help: I wouldn’t have got so far in this _case_ if it hadn’t been for you and your incredible instincts!”

“Then let me come! I can _help_ , Sam! Don’t leave me in this room, worried about whether you never come back! And what if you don’t? What am I meant to do _then?_ I’m afraid of going outside on my own! At least in the car, I could drive it to....somewhere.”

Those eyes locked onto Sam’s, and the lip wobbled so piteously, that despite his better judgement he sighed and nodded. “Okay. But you’re to stay in the Impala. I mean it, Dean. You stay locked in the car safe until I come back. And I _am_ coming back! Okay?”

The other was nodding immediately and hurried to get his... the other Dean’s strong boots on before Sam changed his mind. He was at the motel room door ready just as Castiel knocked on it. The angel stepped back in surprise as Dean rushed out past him in his haste to get into the back seat. He turned to look at Sam.

“I thought we agreed that this was not safe for Dean. He would be far better remaining here: we do not know what we are facing, Sam.”

“I know. But he got upset, and looked at me with such a sad...” Sam gestured at his own face, but couldn’t find the right words to explain. “He’ll be fine. He’s promised me he’ll stay out in the car.”

He reddened as the angel studied him without blinking: “He gave you the ‘puppy-dog-eyes’, did he not?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Sam turned a deeper shade of scarlet.

“You do it to your real brother all the time. Whenever you want to get your own way. And it always works on him.”

“I do not.” And now it was Sam grabbing for his bag and hurrying out to the Impala to get away from this conversation. And from Castiel’s knowing expression.

He had arranged to meet this...who or whatever: no names had been mentioned...at a diner, close to the warehouse where the Deans had been swapped. The killer hadn’t spoken much apart from to ask where Sam had got his card from, and the young man had made some excuse as to being handed it by a friend. The meeting today was supposedly for Sam to give him details and a photograph of whom he wanted ‘dealt with’. And to discuss payment of course.

Although the real plan was that somehow Sam and Cas were going to lead the man, or whatever he turned out to be, away from the public place to somewhere more private. And kill him. But as so far having had no more contact than a disembodied voice, the fact that they still had no real clue as to what they would be dealing with, and the definite knowledge that somewhere involved would also be two werewolves, made both the friends nervous.

So it was a car with a silent interior that drew to a halt down the street from the diner. Sam parked it in the shadow of a large, derelict building. “Now, Dean. You _promised!_ I’ll leave you the keys: you lock the car doors after us. But you stay here.”

“But what if you _need_ me?”

“I need _you_ to be _safe_. I mean it: otherwise I’ll handcuff you to the steering wheel, do you understand?”

Dean bit his lip at the threat and remained quiet. And stationary in his seat as the other two exited the car. Sam collected his bags and waited until he heard all the locks go down with a satisfying ‘clunk’. Then, with a glance at Castiel, the two of them began to walk to the diner, trying not to think about what might be awaiting them.

It had a bright, brash interior that hurt both their eyes as they entered, and the stench of stale grease hung in the air. Sam led the way to a small booth near the window so they could watch out for the man’s arrival.

“What time did you arrange?” Castiel asked as he pretended to study the menu.

Sam glanced at his watch: “Ten minutes. Just follow my play, whichever seems to fit best.”

They had sat the night before and discussed tactics of how to lead the man...being...monster out of the diner. Promise of immediate payment, ‘I’ll just have to fetch it... unless you want to come with’; perhaps a possibility of a suggested place of ambush: they had tried to think of any way possible to get him to come with them. But until they were actually face to face with him, neither of them had any idea of what would work. If anything.

Their tension increased as the minutes ticked by.

Dean sat alone in the Impala and fidgeted. He felt exposed and vulnerable on his own. He was slowly coming to the assurance that no one in this strange world was interested in him, not like they were in his own, but he still didn’t feel safe when anybody walked by. Not that many people were. Sam had picked this time of day deliberately to meet this murderous being, on the premise that most inhabitants of the area would be at work... or wherever local residents went at eleven in the morning, and it wasn’t a part of the city that tourists would wander around. Or would even want to.

But he still tensed up whenever anybody happened to wander in the Impala’s direction and all but slid down in his seat to try not to be noticed. Not for the first time, he wished that he had listened and stayed in the motel, but then... what if Sam didn’t come back: what would he do then?

More importantly: what if his little brother needed his help and he wasn’t _there?_

And besides: although he hadn’t said anything to Sam, in his own head Dean was sure that he _had_ to be there. The presence of two betas at the warehouse, and connected to this case, made him certain that this was something to do with why he was here in the _first_ place. And it was important for him to see it through, no matter how terrified he was, because, if he didn’t, then he may not be able to ever get home.

No: somehow, he was _meant_ to be here today. He had a part to play with whatever was going to happen. Somehow.

He just had to be brave enough to do it, whatever it was.

All this thinking, and worrying, and fretting, made him feel claustrophobic. Carefully Dean cranked the window open, just a little, just to get some fresh...well, city fume-filled fresh air in the car. Then he was slipping down again to hide in the rear seat as he heard quiet but steady footsteps approaching the car from behind.

The stranger passed by without paying the Impala any attention, and Dean took a deep breath to calm himself.

Then another.

And one more.

Dean was certain. The written cards with the number on had only given him a small hint of their quarry’s scent, but he had an _incredible_ sense of smell: stronger even than most Alphas. And this man that had just passed the car was the man who had handled those cards.

 _This_ man, in the long, dark coat as Dean stared after him, was the killer. Or to be more exact: _this_ man was the one who took the payment and sent the were-beings in to rip the victims apart.

But he was going the wrong way. The diner where Sam and that angel were waiting to meet him was in the other direction: he was turning into a doorway opposite the diner, not going across the road and into it.

Dean chewed at his lip again. He had promised Sam that he would stay in the car and he knew his brother would be angry at him if he disobeyed.

But.

Something was wrong.

In the diner, Castiel put the menu down just as the waitress approached with her notebook: “You ready to order, hun?”

“No, thank you.” And he was standing up to leave.

As was Sam.

But neither of them knew why they were doing it; neither of them had been actually intending to do it. But... something was telling them to just get up and exit that diner so they did, leaving the waitress staring after them with confusion. And with Sam’s bag of weaponry that he had left discarded beneath the table.

They both just walked out of that diner and across the road to a small doorway directly opposite. And then they walked through it.

The building turned out to have small offices at the front, and an old time-clocking -in machine on the wall where generations of employees would have stamped their cards daily. But Sam and Castiel were walking past the small offices into a larger, more open area at the rear, where the lines of machinery would have been set up and the factory workers would have met their targets. Now it was as empty as the previous old factory Sam had been in a few short days before: only moulding walls and grime-sticky oil patches on the floor were left.

Sam felt nervous sweat trickle down his back as he crunched his way across the gritty factory floor. He wanted to stop, to turn, to run: but he couldn’t. And more worrying than that: out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the angel was also fighting himself, tensing against his own body to try and halt it from just blindly stepping one foot in front of the other. But Cas was helpless against whatever power was controlling them as well, and Sam was suddenly realising that they were in _major_ trouble.

And this time, for probably the first time _ever_ , there would be no big brother suddenly coming to the rescue.

He was on his own.

Desperately he tried to regain control, to try and force his own head to even turn enough to look around the large space. But he couldn’t even do that. But then he didn’t have to, as somebody was walking into his limited view.

A tall, thin man, with short dark hair and thin features: dark eyes, long nose, face held proudly high, almost arrogantly. Long dark overcoat, his hands tucked lazily in the pockets as if he was just out for a stroll on a perfect autumn’s day after a good meal, and _not_ thinking of arranging a particularly cold and calculated contract killing.

“Well, now. This _is_ interesting. I keep a good track of my cards: I’m very particular who I hand them out to. So, I’ll ask again: how did _you_ get one of them? Oh, don’t tell me...” Sam couldn’t have despite his desperation to speak, “I thought you were probably police, or FBI, but _him?_ ” He was indicating the angel. “What is _he?_ ”

He stared at Sam in expectation for a long moment, then suddenly realised why he wasn’t responding. With a slight movement of his head, Sam was returned control of his own mouth and tongue, but not any of the rest of his body. But even as he began to try to make something up, to his horror he found himself only able to tell the truth! “He’s an angel. We’re Hunters. We’ve come to stop you from killing anyone else.”

“An _angel?_ ” The man walked closer to Castiel in open appreciation. “I never thought they were _real!_ I wonder what I can make _you_ do? Is that ‘smiting’ stuff real? I bet I can get big bucks for that! No evidence: no _body_ even! It would make _you_ two look like clumsy amateurs!”

With an unpleasant grin he was turning towards the side of the shop floor that he had appeared from, and Sam managed to turn his head enough to see two young males standing by a small rear door. He vaguely recognised one as the human version of the creature he and Dean had been chasing just that few short days ago when he had lost his brother.

So if the new Dean was correct and there were two scents on that roof, then these were both...

Werewolves.

And he and Cas were completely helpless.

No, not completely: Castiel was still fighting whatever control this being had over them both and suddenly managed to speak. “I will _never_ kill for you: I would _die_ first.”

The man smiled evilly at him: “Well, at least I can guarantee you of that! Boys...!” And he was stepping back and nodding for the two were’s to approach.

“Wait! Wait!” Sam finally forced his own voice to obey him. “Why are you doing this? What _are_ you?”

“You’re the Hunter: _you_ work it out.”

“He’s a natural-born warlock.” Castiel supplied. “A being _born_ with magic rather than learning it. And he’s unbelievably strong: he’s drawing in the power of anything and everything around him like a sponge absorbing the energy of the earth itself. The power around him is _incredible_ : you could be using it for _good_.” He berated the being who openly laughed at him.

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that? Or the profit? _Kill_ them!” And he was stepping back as the two young men moved across the room. But, Sam realised, they seemed to have the same expression as he had noticed on the angel’s face as he had walked into the vast open space. And probably the same expression that _he_ had had. They each had the tense, taught lines on their faces of trying desperately to fight their bodies from unwillingly obeying the commands of someone else’s mind.

But even as he watched, they were both transforming in shape: changing into something un-human and primitive even as the sun gained its highest position in the sky. “How do you do that without the moon?” he had to ask.

“Their monster half is only hidden just under the surface: I just...encourage it to come out.” The warlock was now leaning against the wall at the far end of the room, well out of range of the expected spray of blood: he looked excited, as if he really enjoyed this part. “I just appeal to their baser natures: let them ‘scent their prey’ as it were, and let ’em loose! I don’t even have to be there, but just for _you_ two I’ll make an exception. _Two_ exceptions: I won’t even get _paid_ for your deaths! But that won’t make them any the less satisfying! So enjoy the complement... Do it!”

This last was to the werewolves. They immediately quickened their advance to where Sam and Castiel were still helplessly standing there waiting. They both tried to brace themselves against what was definitely going to be agonising death.

“Leave them alone.”

The voice that spoke from behind Sam was deep and gravelly. And Dean’s.

“No, no, no,” was all he could think. “Dean! Get _out_ of here! Run!” He _hoped_ he had been able to yell it: Castiel was _definitely_ shouting. “Dean! No! You shouldn’t _be_ here!”

But the werewolves were...blinking and looking around them. As if coming to from a very deep enforced sleep. As if they weren’t quite sure where they were.

The warlock straightened up from the wall with a look of fury on his face: “What the hell is _this?_ Come here.” But his smirk faded and his complexion paled a little as the order, obviously directed at Dean, failed to be obeyed. “I said... come here.”

His face contorted a little as he tried once more to take control of Dean as well. But again he was unable to.

Then the two werewolves were shifting back into their human forms once more and almost immediately both were falling to their knees in genuine rapturous supplication. “Our Lady!”

Just as Sam was about to ask, he became aware of....something at the edge of his vision. Something that he couldn’t see, but was _there_. Something moving that, as it passed in front of them, caused the edges of the bricks on the walls, and the lines on the floor, to soften momentarily and then return to their usual sharp focused state. Something large... and on all fours.

As it padded in front of him, Sam was suddenly able to move for himself again: it was such a relief to be in control of his own body once more. And he could see Castiel having the same response, shaking his aching limbs out from where he had been trying to force them to obey him, but never once taking his eyes off whatever the being was that had released them from the powerful spell.

“Cas. What _is_ it?” His whisper echoed around the open space.

“It’s a spirit animal, Sam.” He could hear the wonder...and reverence... in the angel’s tone. “It must be _Dean’s_ spirit animal. And... it’s _so_ beautiful. Of _course_ Dean is from a feline lineage: how could I ever have considered him to be anything _but?_ The markings are _stunning_ , Sam. Of _course_ it is his.”

“Omegas are feline: Alphas more like your canine. A perfect combination for a mated pair: agility complementing strength.” Dean was now also stepping forward to stand beside them both. “But this is from Our Lady _Moon!_ I never should have doubted that she would send me so far from home unprotected: I only had to have enough courage to ask for her help. And there is no way that _She_ would let something like _you_ hurt me.”

This last was aimed at the warlock who had turned a very unpleasant shade of near burgundy in his rage. “You...How dare you!” He drew himself up and raised his hands, muttering a spell as he did. Even Sam could see the power electrify the air as the energy of it was aimed directly at where his brother was standing.

Or rather, where his brother _had_ been standing.

Because, even as the spell was cast and struck, Sam found himself being caught up in Dean’s arms then squashed between them and Castiel’s body as his brother instinctively and agilely reacted to the threat with one of his tremendous leaps, thus removing himself, and both of _them_ , out of range of the danger.

Even as he was jumping, the spirit animal was roaring its anger at the warlock for his audacity. The man raised his arms to strike again, but started back as there were suddenly a series of flashes and sparks around his limbs that made him wince and, for the first time, cower back.

“Cas?”

“The earth itself is denying him energy. It’s taking it all back, Sam! He’ll be helpless without it!”

The two werewolves had also turned to spit their rage at their previous master: “That’s an _omega!_ A _pure_ -blood _omega!_ How _dare_ you try and hurt him!”

“Kill it! Kill it!” The warlock was screaming now: desperate to try and regain his control over them. “You listen to me! You _kill_ it!”

But his commands were ignored as both the werewolves hurried instead to make sure that _Dean_ was okay. “I never thought I’d meet a real omega,” one whispered to him with awe. “We only have Alphas and betas: I thought _you_ were just myths.”

“I’m real enough.” He was helping Sam to his feet as he spoke, but his eyes were on the warlock. Who now looked smaller than he had done before. He wasn’t standing so proudly, in fact he looked slightly...crumpled. And definite terror was showing in his eyes.

“What do we do with him... _omega?_ ” The two young beings just loved saying the word. Sam started to speak, to suggest what should happen, but he fell silent at the glance that Dean gave him. The green eyes were angry; stern; commanding.

In full control of the current situation.

He watched Sam for his reaction as he spoke his next words: “Take him out.” There was no emotion in his tone at all. Nor in his eyes.

The two were’s obeyed immediately, turning on their previous master as one. As they passed the shimmering silhouette of the spirit animal, _something_ caused their bodies to shift once more to wolf form. The warlock stared at them in horror as they approached him: “No! _No!_ We can make a deal! We’ll be _partners!_ _No!_ ”

His words turned into screams as they set on him. Sam felt nausea rise at the sounds and the sight. He noticed that Castiel also had to turn away from the scene a little as the huge area echoed with the shrieks and pleas of the dying man. But neither of them felt sorry for him.

Dean never even flinched.

It was over extremely quickly. Then the killers became two young men again in form and stepped away from the splattered mess, returning to Dean’s side. Sam glanced at Castiel and felt in the back of his jeans for the one weapon that he had managed to carry into that old factory: his knife. He noticed the other silently release his angel blade, and they readied themselves to make sure this job was finished fully.

“What are you doing?” Dean had noticed their actions.

Sam winced at the cold anger in the tone now aimed at him: “I know they were being controlled, Dean, but they still killed: they’re still _monsters_. I’m sorry, but they have to be stopped.”

Despite himself, despite even his greater height and weight, he couldn’t help but step back as Dean moved towards him: the look on his face more than frightening now. “They’re what _I_ am, Sam. You going to kill me too?”

Sam’s response was hesitant. “No. _No!_ But you’re not _like_ them! You don’t change, do you? I mean: I have to _do_ this, don’t you _see_ , Dean?” He was definitely in retreat from the older man now: _his_ Dean when angry was intimidating enough. This one was _terrifying!_

“I’ll tell you what I see, _Sammy_.” He had backed the younger man right against the wall and was managing to stare him down despite being a few inches shorter. “I see two scared pups who only killed because they were being controlled. And those pups, now they are free, are _never_ going to hurt anyone again. Or if they _do_ , then they know they will have _Hunters_ after them! So they will be _stupid_ if they do.

But for now, they are going to walk out of here and disappear...and nobody is going to stop them. _Nobody_. That’s what _I_ see, Sam. Is that what _you_ see as well?”

“I...” But Sam bit his lip at the threat and remained quiet.

“Good _bye_ , pups.” Dean didn’t have to turn his head as he spoke: the authority in his voice was obvious. And his order was obeyed within the instant.

“Goodbye omega. And thankyou.” And the two young men were gratefully all but running from the room, heading for the street outside to merge immediately with the lunch time crowd and disappear while they had the chance to escape.

Only when Dean couldn’t scent them anymore did he step back from his brother.

“Dean...?”

But the other had already turned and was walking away, not even glancing at the bloody mess against the far wall. Sam caught Castiel’s eye: the angel had stood quietly as Dean had shown his dominance, but the human could see that he had been taken aback by the defiance just as much as Sam had.

“Where did the...spirit animal go?”

“It disappeared, Sam. The moment the danger was past. But it is of Dean, no doubt about it.”

“Cas?”

“Yes, Sam.”

“What _is_ he?”

The subject of their discussion was already nearly back to the outer door that led to the street, when the adrenaline that had managed to take him from the Impala into that building suddenly wore off and the realisation of what he had just done set in. Dean stumbled a little as his whole body began to tremble and shake from fear and shock. What by Our Lady had been that thing that had looked like a man, yet had such power and such hatred inside it?

And, although he had heard the elders speak in whispers of the ultimate transcendental goal of the most pious: that of seeing Our Lady Moon walk the earth in her physical form, it had never even _occurred_ to him that one day _he_ actually _might!_

Dean all but slumped to the gritty floor as his legs seemed to give way beneath him and all the breath seemed to leave his body. Gratefully he rested his forehead against the grimy but cool wall that he had collapsed in front of.

He had still been hesitating over leaving the car when he had noticed Sam and Castiel leave the diner empty-handed and each cross the road as if in a daze. The worry over his brother’s safety had given him the impetus to follow, regardless of any worries over a broken promise.

He had crept into the building behind them un-noticed, because he wasn't anything _worth_ noticing. Not in _this_ world at least, and he had a full appreciation of the irony in that.

He had followed them in alone. He didn’t have _any_ plan, or idea of what he might be able to do against such a powerful foe, but he had been determined to try. He couldn’t just wait and do nothing. He couldn’t let his brother and that angel get killed without at least _trying_.

It had taken Dean all his courage to challenge the warlock and he was now feeling nauseous just at the thought of what he had done. But then: _She_ had been there. _She_ had only been waiting for him to find his courage. Our Lady Moon had sent him protection and he was ashamed that he had ever doubted her.

And he could practically cry now at the relief of it all.

But first things first: Dean tried to still his shaking hands enough to find the stone in his pocket, the stone that he had looked at so often every day, the one that had been always with him from the moment he had arrived in this strange world. He was desperate for it to glow again: he wanted to go home so badly.

And even more so now.

He wanted to get away from this version of his brother who seemed so ready to kill those two young were’s without mercy. And he _really_ didn’t want to face Sam’s anger once he had recovered from the shock of Dean actually standing up to him.

Plus, there was the added problem of Castiel being there now: it was only when he had been trapped in the enclosed confines of the Impala with the celestial being that it had suddenly registered why the angel’s faint but pure scent bothered him so much.

And it did really bother him.

So Dean huddled on the ground in the crappy old factory, stared down at the stone, and _willed_ it to begin to glow.

But it didn’t. Why didn’t it glow? What did he have to do before it would glow again?

And what would he do if it never did?

And even as he heard the approaching footsteps from behind him pause, and heard the slight exclamation, and then felt his brother’s arms close round his shoulders, and felt the body warmth and weight of the solidly strong torso as the younger man knelt on the ground behind him and gently gathered him tightly in to his chest, Dean finally let the tears go.

Oh, how he _wanted_ to go home.


	14. Chapter 14

“Dean? Anyone home? Please, let me in! Dean?”

This pleading was accompanied by a frantic knocking on the back door. “Dean? Please! _Please_ be in!”

Dean swore to himself: he had been on the old laptop that he had ‘borrowed’ from the family and set up so he could see exactly what was happening with Sam’s case without his brother knowing what he was up to.

But that was Annie’s voice. What the hell was she doing there? He and Sam had agreed that it was probably better that he didn’t talk to Annie in case he gave himself away, but... they obviously hadn’t let _her_ in on their decision. Against his better judgement he hurried to hide the laptop in the small cupboard beneath the stairs and went to the back to let her in.

He was all but knocked to one side at her haste to get inside the kitchen once he opened the door: “Dean!” And she was flinging her arms around him in a massive hug, trapping his upper limbs into his chest. “ _Dean!_ ” Her voice got even shriller. “Oh, thank Our Lady, are you alright? I’m glad Sam’s started to accompany you and the children to school every morning instead of you walking with _us_ as usual, but I’ve been so _worried!_ ”

“About what, Annie?” He was trying to pull her off him, but was surprised at how tenacious the female omega could be once she had a good hold. “What have you been worried about?”

Dean finally succeeded in un-wrapping her arms from around his upper body and limbs, and pulled her to sit on one of the kitchen chairs: he himself taking another the opposite side of the table so he could hold her hands without the risk of being accosted again. But then she was tightening her grip on _both_ of his.

“About you! About what Sam might have done after you openly defied him last week! Even _Sara_ was worried when she saw the images of it being circulated on social media, and then, when you’ve been coming to school but haven’t been allowed to talk to anyone... has Sam been hurting you? He never lets go of your hand at _all_ now, not for a moment... oh Dean, I’ve missed talking to you so much.”

The smile of relief on her face was genuine, as were the tears in her eyes. Dean squeezed her hands in return, trying to emphasize that he was alright without incriminating himself by making a stupid mistake when talking to the other Dean’s best friend.

“I’m fine, Annie. _Really!_ Sam’s just worried about these strangers hanging around that your Sara told him about. He wanted me to stop coming to the school completely, but... I’ve got to be there for my pups, Annie. Otherwise... what use am I? What use to _anyone?_ ”

“Oh Dean.” And the tears were coming now.

He sighed and stood to move around the table, reaching down to hold _her_ tightly this time and letting the omega cry into his chest. When her sobs finally turned into snivels, he was ready with the box of tissues from the side. “Coffee?”

“Please.” As she took one to blow her nose and used the backs of her hands to wipe her face on. “I’m sorry. I was just so _worried_. And about your lack of scent that day as well, had you been ill? But at least _that_ seems to be returning: this kitchen smells _wonderful._ ”

“I’ve spent the morning baking.”

“Oh Dean, that’s not what I meant and you know it.” Annie was taking a deep breath in as she spoke and noticeably relaxing. Then she smiled and took the mug Dean was offering her, inhaling once more but this time in appreciation of the freshly ground aroma, while he settled himself once more in the chair opposite with his own.

“It’s great to see you, Annie. I was surprised to see you at the back door, though. How did you get into the garden, I thought the gate was locked?”

She stared at him: “Dean? We made that little entrance in the corner _years_ ago when you moved in. So we could use that tiny back lane that runs between the gardens to get to your house this end from mine around the corner on the other side, and Jenny’s at the end, _and_ Lynne’s. So all us omegas could see each other without having to risk any Alpha seeing us in the street without our children. How did you _think_ I got in?”

“Sorry, I just wasn’t thinking. Come on, let’s take our drinks to the living room: it’s more comfortable in there.”

He hoped he had managed to change the subject as they moved through to sit on the soft couches. As Annie went to put her mug down on the sideboard beside her chair, she knocked something off the surface that went to the rug with a crash.

“Oh, I’m sorry!”

Dean was already there: “I’m always doing that, don’t worry. I’ll move it to the back.”

He couldn’t help but look at it as he put it back: in fact, it had been one of the first things he had noticed when he entered the house. Once he had got over the shock that his counterpart of this world was mated to his own brother and had given birth to three children, that is. But this framed photo had definitely caught his eye almost immediately.

It was of him and his dad. Well, of the Dean from this world standing with their dad of this world. And they were both smiling and relaxed, and laughing into the camera. Dean smiled to himself even as he carefully put the picture back: his dad looked tired but happy, not stressed and driven by fear and revenge like the version that Dean remembered.

And _he_ looked happy.

Sam had noticed him staring at it the day after he had arrived and told him that it been taken on a rare day off for their hard-working father that he had decided to use to go fishing. And of course, Dean had gone with him, because by that time he had gone with their dad _everywhere_ because of John’s worry about leaving him unguarded. And Sam had been invited to join them, but he had thought fishing just a stupid waste of time and told his dad that, so John and Dean had gone on their own.

“And I spent the day doing _nothing_ , bored out of my mind and _lonely_ , and wishing that I had just said ‘yes’, and when they returned that evening, I could hear their laughter above the noise of the Impala, and you... _my_ Dean...had caught a bigger fish than dad had, and they were joking about it, and it was so good to see them just so... Well, I grabbed my camera and took the photo, and then I got so jealous that I hadn’t gone that I refused to eat any of the fish, and then dad and I had a _huge_ row which upset Dean and ruined the day. And only three months or so after, I presented and... well... I’ve told you what happened.

By the Moon,” Sam had sighed. “I must have been so obnoxious, Dean. Dad never _touched_ my Dean, I don’t know how, because he must have been so tempted to, and I was always so horrible to him all the time. Telling him how Dean should be allowed to have a life, and arguing all the time about... _nothing_ , Dean! I would pick a fight over things that the previous day I had _wanted!_ And when he died in that crash... it was too late. I should have said sorry. I should have _told_ him I was sorry. And I know he used to sneak to Uncle Bobby’s to see Dean and Samuel: I’m _glad_ he got to meet Samuel. And I’m glad he never hated Dean for what _I_ did.

Anyway, after he died, I found this photo again and put it in the frame for my Dean. I see him look at it all the time...”

Dean had already taken a picture of the photo with his cell phone: it might not have been of _him_ and his dad, but it was close enough. And Samuel had promised to get him a small copy taken off of it and put in a light frame, with the hopes that he could take it home when he finally figured out how. Although he had to admit that he liked the frame that this one was in: it was made from genuine cold-grey granite and was incredibly heavy. And very much prone to being knocked off the sideboard.

He and Annie sat and drank their coffees, and had some of the chocolate fudge cake that he had baked that morning, and discussed their children and their lives and the school and the world in general. And how omegas were treated.

Which was when Annie sat up straight and cleared her throat.

“This is why I’ve been wanting to talk to you, Dean. Because you’re the only one that I _can_ talk to! I’ve found someone who can put me in touch with the F. A. O!” She sounded triumphant. “I’m going to check it out, but if I can, then I’m taking Lauren and we’re going, Dean.”

“Annie, wait....”

“Oh, don’t _you_ try and stop me, Dean. I know you’re happy with Sam...well, usually...but Sara is so... I can’t bear the way she talks about me anymore...and Lauren. Even _if_ she’s only a beta, she’s still Sara’s daughter!”

“Annie, please be careful. I asked Sam about them, and he thinks they’re omega sex traffickers: you could be running literally into danger...”

“You talked to Sam about me, Dean? How _could_ you...?” She was getting to her feet, extremely upset. “I trusted you! You’re my best...well, my _only_ close friend! How _could_ you?”

“No, I didn’t mention you to Sam!” Dean was also on his feet. “And I only casually mentioned them to Sam anyway! I pretended to be just your typical naive, stupid omega, and I got the full lecture about not going anywhere near them, but actually...I’m worried he’s right, Annie. Please don’t do anything to put yourself or that little girl in danger. Sara may be a total bitch, but she does love you...in her way. _And_ Lauren!”

“I’m only going to ring a number and find out, Dean!” She was mollified, but not fully. “I’m not a complete idiot!”

“Then let me do it.”

“What?”

“Let _me_ call and check it out. Make sure it’s what you hope it is. _Please_ , Annie. If you’re really thinking about doing this, then let me call this whoever and find out first.”

He was holding his hand out for the number. And she was pursing her lips, but then reaching into her small purse and slipping out a piece of paper with a phone number written on it. “Are you sure?” as she handed it to Dean.

“Just let me check it out: make sure it’s safe. Please, Annie.” And he was carefully putting it away. “What’s a couple more weeks? Just to make sure?”

“Well, okay.” She still sounded reluctant, but at least he had taken the number from her. Then she was moving to leave: “Oh. I nearly forgot. Sara wants to be the first in the block to have a barbeque this year. Probably in the next couple of weeks, depending on the weather. So just be ready for the invite: you know what she’s like! She’ll take other people having previous arrangements as a personal affront!”

“I’ll let Sam know. We’ll try and be there: Mary-Anne will love seeing Lauren anyway, I’m sorry we haven’t been able to have her around much lately. And just leave the F.A.O. to me, _please_ Annie.”

“If you haven’t done it by the barbecue, then _I’m_ calling, Dean! I already put the number in my cell!” And before he could stop her, she was off and running across the garden to the deliberately loosened fence panel in the corner and slipping through the seemingly solid barrier.

Dean swore to himself: he would have to do some serious investigating into whoever these people were, there was no way his friend and her daughter were getting hurt. Not on his watch.

With a sigh he returned inside to retrieve the laptop from beneath the stairs. Sam had finally brought home the file containing the evening that he had spent with the ‘informant’, and Dean was desperate to study the details. His brother had returned that night disappointed that nothing had happened as he had hoped, but that was about as much as he would tell Dean.

And it had been driving the human crazy.

So now, he sat and read through the files, making notes as he went. Sam had been correct in that it had been a bust as far as _they_ were concerned: there had been no sign of Manolli at the warehouse, although the police had managed to seize a good quantity of drugs and taken a couple of genuinely unpleasant characters off the street. But there was nothing to connect them to the man that Sam was so desperate to catch. And there would be no _way_ that the arrested men would be admitting that there was: they weren’t that stupid as to cross the powerful crime figurehead, they would rather wait it out in jail.

He sighed and began to look instead for information on the Freedom for All Omegas. As his brother had said, it was all rumours and hopeful speculation: stories of omegas finding their own version of Shangri-La and living in peace and harmony with respectful and understanding Alphas and betas. It was such a wonderful place that not a single one of the numerous omegas that went missing every year to supposedly find it, had ever bothered to return to help their anxious friends or relatives also find such tranquillity.

It was as if they had simply vanished into thin air.

Dean tried to find the phone number that Annie had given him on all the numerous web search sites, but came up with nothing. The only thing he could do was.... call it. Unless he could think of something else in the meantime.

With a sigh, he hid his work and the old laptop away in the cupboard once more. It would only be an hour before Sam would be returning with the children anyway: his brother had decided that every morning he and Dean would accompany the two youngest on foot to school before returning the short distance back to the house to make sure Dean went, and _stayed_ , safely inside and for Sam to pick up his car, then later he would bring some of his documents back with him to continue working at home in the evening after he had picked all the children up again on his own in the afternoon.

Dean got the reasoning behind it, but he still itched to get out of the house: he had never felt so _trapped_ in his entire life as he did in this suburbia.

At least he had time for his coffee: during this last week...was it _longer_ than a week now?... it had become a little routine for him, although if he had the choice he would have still preferred a shot of good whisky! But, anyway, he had got into the habit of taking out a freshly made mugful of coffee to sit at the patio table in the small, quiet, tidy garden and just... enjoy the calm before the children arrived home.

He was doing just this when he heard the front door slam from inside the house, followed by an anxious call of “Dean? _Dean?_ ” Despite himself, he sighed: that was _Sam’s_ voice! So much for his peaceful half an hour.

“Out here!” He was up on his feet and approaching the French doors when the other appeared at them, looking slightly worried.

“I wondered where you were. For a moment, when I couldn’t scent you in the house immediately...” Sam caught at his words and tried to put his show of worry over his brother away. And failed miserably. “Should you be sitting out here on your own? Do you do it often? I mean...”

He fell completely silent as Dean glared at him. “I came out to sit and drink my coffee. You’ve forbidden me from leaving the house, you going to stop me from being in the fucking _garden_ now!”

“Language! And no: I didn’t mean that... I just... you said you thought they were watching the back of the house as well?!"

“Don’t look to your two o’clock... I said, _don’t_ look... but there’s always someone there, past the houses opposite and into the trees on the slope, watching this way. You can see the light occasionally hit his binoculars.”

“Where?”

“I said, don’t _look!_ Jesus, this is only first grade stuff. Christ, way to go, tipping them off that we know they’re there!”

“I still think we should call the police.”

“And do what? Report a bird-watcher? And I thought you were meant to have brains.” He glanced ruefully at his brother who had drawn himself up enough in his stance from his anger at their privacy being invaded, to cause Dean to be reminded irresistibly of a strutting cockerel. “Anyway, you’re early....I wasn’t expecting you until school was out.”

“I thought you might like to come with me and pick the kids up for a change. I’ve...erm...I’ve got to go back to work later.”

“Oh?” Dean stopped where he had returned to his chair and waited, sighing as Sam self-consciously and extremely _obviously_ moved to make sure his face was turned away from anyone watching the garden as he spoke.

“Yes. The man...he’s given us information that there’s going to be a... well, _something’s_ going to go down with one of Manolli’s... erm...’rivals’. They’re going to be put ‘out of business’, apparently. He’s pretty sure that the man himself will be there this time. But he wants me with him as his adviser again, so I came home early.”

Dean shook his head in amusement at his brother’s awkwardness: “Okay. Do you want a coffee? The pot’s freshly made.” He made as if to cross to the house.

“I’ll get one.” And Sam was returning through the open doors instead, returning almost immediately with a full mug of his own. And a grin on his face that immediately put Dean on his guard: what could be going through his brother’s mind that would cause that smirk?

“So, we _are_ being watched here?”

“Most definitely.”

Sam moved past him where he sat, placing his mug carefully down on the small table. Dean sat up a little, still wary: what _was_ his brother up to?

“Well, we better put on a show, then.”

What...?” But Sam was stepping over to him, removing his half-empty mug from his grasp and also placing it safely on the table. And then to Dean’s shock and immediate intense discomfort, he was being pulled suddenly out of his chair to be swept up bridal style in Sam’s strong arms. He grabbed around his brother’s neck to try and stop himself from falling as he felt very insecure, and more than ridiculous: “What the f...?”

But his words were smothered as Sam’s mouth covered his even as he turned to settle himself on the previously occupied seat, holding Dean forcibly down on his lap as he sat. “I _said_ , let’s put on a show.”

He could feel his brother tense angrily and try to pull away but Sam didn’t care. His right hand moved to ‘lovingly’ caress the back of Dean’s head, physically holding him there even as he tried to move his head back, while he started to work his left hand beneath the hem and then up under his brother’s borrowed sweatshirt, trying to get beneath the collared shirt as well, desperate to feel the warmth of bare skin against his fingers.

But Dean wasn’t going to make it easy and was trying desperately to break his hold around him without making it obvious to their observers what he was doing. “Sham, get awff!” The other could barely make his words out as they were hissed into his mouth, but he got the gist. And he didn’t _care_ : oh, Our Lady, how he had missed this! He had tried, he had really _tried_ to keep his hands off Dean, but... even through the residue of coffee he just tasted so _wonderful_.

“We’re being watched, Dean! _Don’t_ show me up! We’re supposed to be a loving mated couple!” And he was pushing through with his tongue to hopefully wrestle with his brother’s, while at the same time giving up on fighting Dean’s hands and get his shirt loose, and moved to simply cup his groin instead.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the loud grunted exclamation that was the response. But he was ready when Dean immediately moved his hand to try and push him off, only to find his fingers caught in _Sam’s_ hand instead and being used to rub his own groin _himself_ through his trousers. “Nargh! Yew fowkin’ k...”

Sam chose his moment to pull his mouth away briefly, resting their foreheads together in a loving looking gesture that belied the strength of the grip of his hand still around the back of Dean’s head and neck. “We’re being _watched_ , Dean. Better make this look real, or it could give you away. Just kiss me back. I can’t be _that_ repulsive!” And his mouth was closing on his brother’s again.

He felt the sigh rather than heard it, felt Dean try to force himself to relax, felt him begin to kiss back even though his body remained stiff and rigidly determined not to be any closer to Sam’s in any area that he didn’t have to be.

And he was _very_ good at kissing.

Soon Sam wanted so much to taste more than just Dean’s mouth.

He knew it was wrong. And unfair. But he so wanted to.

This time he let Dean break the embrace. The older man sat back a little, uncomfortably aware of how hard Sam seemed to be in his pants beneath the weight of his ass as he sat in his brother’s lap, and a quick glance at Sam’s face informed Dean that he wasn’t over-exaggerating the intensity of the situation. The younger man’s eyes were filled with such dark lust that Dean could see his own reflection clearly in each of them.

He licked his lips nervously. “We should get going to the school. Wouldn’t hurt to be early.”

Sam’s eyes focused on him, still so dark as to be almost demonic. “We’ve got lots of time!” And to Dean’s horror, he was suddenly getting up off the chair, still with Dean in his arms and carrying him into the house.

Even as his brother kicked the French door closed behind them, Dean was trying once more to escape the tight grip around his back and legs: “Sam! Wait a minute! We don’t need to _act_ anymore in here!”

But his entreatments were ignored as Sam continued through the living room to the hall, and headed up the stairs as if the weight of the man were no effort at all to him. “Sam! Hold on! Just...let me down. Please.”

But he wasn’t put down until they got into the main bedroom. And even as Dean readied himself to run the moment his brother released his grip on him, he found himself all but thrown onto the mattress with a whompf that knocked the air momentarily out of him, and then the chance had gone as Sam was climbing over him to straddle his chest, catching at his hands and holding them, and him, down.

“Sam! Wait! Please!”

But Sam was already loosening his pants, opening his flies and releasing his cock. It sprang out to immediate attention, focusing Dean’s eyes on it with more than disbelief.

His brother was _huge!_

And there was a... strange raised ridged ring around it... almost like an elastic band had been slipped around it just beneath the surface of the skin, two or three inches up from where the Alpha’s cock met the rest of his body. But then Dean’s attention was returning to his more pressing situation: literally, as Sam’s free hand was reaching behind him where he was sitting astride Dean’s chest to try and loosen Dean’s pants and pull them out of the way.

“Sam! Wait! No, no, no, _please!_ ”

“I want you so much! I’ll control it! I _will!_ I’ll try to! But it’s been more than a week! And, oh how I miss my Dean so much! Just relax, Dean. Just let me...” And he was tearing at Dean’s buttons in his desperation to get to the warmth beneath.

“Wait! Wait! Just let me...just let me use my mouth then! Okay! Don’t do _this_ , but I’ll give you a blowjob instead, okay? Just don’t rape me!”

Sam paused and stared at him: the lust still full in his eyes, but now his expression slightly unsure. “You’d _do_ that?”

“Yeah. _Yeah!_ If it means I don’t have to... Look, just let me up.” He lay and stared up at Sam, willing him to get off his chest and let him catch his breath.

Still Sam hesitated: “You won’t try and run?”

“No. But you’ve got to let me up. I can’t do it like this: I’d choke if you pushed that thing into my mouth like this!”

“Okay.”And to his relief Sam was moving off him, still with both Dean’s hands caught tightly in just one of his younger brother’s immense ones, but allowing him to take some much needed air as he quickly twisted to sit up. They sat and stared at each other momentarily on the bed.

“Okay.” Dean tried to calm his pounding heart. “Just...lie back. Just...”

He couldn’t believe what he was doing. Or rather...he couldn’t believe who he was about to do it _with_.

But...it wasn’t as if he had never messed around sexually before. Dean had had his moments with men, when both his dad and his Sam were _well_ out of the way...and although he had quickly realised that that wasn’t the way his taste _ran_ , it hadn’t been too bad either. So... a blow job seemed the most sensible solution to the situation.

Having made the decision, he just had to get on with it: so he did. Even as Sam lay down on his back and stretched himself out fully out on the mattress, Dean was leaning forward to run his hand up and down the shaft, making the other moan and thrust his hips upwards impulsively. He hadn’t been lying about his desperation: Dean could see that this wasn’t going to take long. Quickly he leant forward and engulfed the head of his brother’s cock with his mouth.

It had a strange taste: booky somehow, if there was even such a _word_ as booky; and clean, in the freshly starched linen way of being clean; and musky, a musk that he associated somehow with Sam. _Both_ of them! But it wasn’t unpleasant: he could _do_ this.

He began to move his head up and down, feeling his brother come just about completely undone with the sensation. And he knew he himself was smirking a little at being able to have such an effect.

Then Dean was pulling away in a panic as he felt...something that he had definitely _never_ felt before. Sam’s cock had started to... _widen_ in his mouth. He stared at it incredulously even as Sam groaned, sat up on his elbows, and put his own large hand to himself, gripping tightly around the base.

“Is that...your knot?” It reminded Dean of when a children’s performer blew up one of those strange long balloons to make shapes with, and there was that moment when the gas being trapped inside made one part of the sausage shape twice the width of the rest before it all expanded. Only this was his brother’s cock that Dean had only just managed to get his hand around _before_ the top half of it, from the strange ridge to the head, had started to expand! “How big does it go?”

“Just let me...” And Sam concentrated, trying to get his knot to subside again. “I’m not sure, roughly twice the normal width? And I would _never_ expect you to take it in your mouth like that, Dean. Or even for _my_ Dean to! Just let me...” His head tipped backwards with the effort of controlling himself, but slowly the strange bulge that was creating the effect of a mushroom that Dean had seen out in the wild...what was it...a shaggy mane something?...pretty apt for his brother, he thought wildly and felt like giggling hysterically at the absurdity of the situation he had yet again found himself in... subsided until it just looked like a normal erect penis again.

“Finish me.” Sam gasped. “ _Please_ , Dean!” He was pleading now: his earlier aggression completely gone.

So Dean did. It only took another couple of deep thrusts into his mouth, feeling his brother hit the back of his throat and trying not to gag, and then Sam was crying out uncontrollably as he felt the release of over a week’s worth of sexual tension leave his body.

“Oh, My Lady, Oh, My... Oh, that was wonderful, thank you!” And he was pulling Dean down to lie next to him on the bed, wrapping his arms tightly around the other and moving to kiss him with every bit as much tenderness as he had earlier done with force.

They lay in silence for a while. Sam broke it first. “I’m sorry. I should have far more control around you than I do. You just don’t know what your scent _does_ to me, Dean.”

“Just this ‘knothead’ thing that I keep reading about, huh?”

“No. _No!_ ” And Sam was raising himself up on one elbow to stare at him. “Well...”he conceded, “perhaps just then, yes. But knotting isn’t about the actual _knotting_ : not to me, anyway!”

Dean’s eyebrows raised. Sam sighed as he tried to figure out how to explain what he meant.

“Yes, some Alphas are derided as ‘knotheads’, and they give the rest of us a bad name, but to most...well, to _me_...it’s not about the actual act of knotting, although that is _incredible_ , but it’s about... _now_. The aftermath. When Dean and I are joined as one, and I get to hold him tightly in my arms, and kiss him, and just watch him settle to sleep, because he knows he’s safe and protected, and... loved. And desired. And wanted, _always_.”

He was moving to kiss Dean again as in emphasis of his words, rolling slightly on top of his brother to feel as much of his fully clothed warmth and solidity along as many inches of his own long body as he could.

“No mere beta could ever understand that: they have sex, and then it’s gone; it’s over; it’s done. For an Alpha-omega pairing, it’s... or it should be, at least... _everything_.”

He was smiling down at Dean now, leaning on his elbows on the bed, his body still over his brother’s. Dean stared back up at him, his green eyes catching the light like the most perfect emeralds, and his lips... Sam just had to kiss them once more before he forced himself to move away from this...human that was the identical of the man that he loved so much with every single atom of his being.

He lay down on his face beside Dean on the bed, knowing that the other would move away from him as soon as he could. And indeed Dean was getting off the mattress _immediately_.

“I’m, er... going to brush my teeth, and then we’ll get going to the school? It’ll be nice to be able to pick them up.”

“Okay.” Sam’s voice was momentarily muffled against the covers. “Was that a chocolate cake I saw downstairs?”

“Yeah, I’ve been baking again. Gives me something to do. Annie came round and had some. I wasn’t expecting her!” he added hastily as Sam immediately stiffened where he lay and twisted in somewhat of a panic on the mattress to face him. “And I don’t think I said anything out of turn! She came round to invite us to Sara’s barbeque either next week or the one after.”

He was silenced by Sam’s genuine groan of miserable regret and disgust. “Oh, _no!_ Not a party at _Sara’s!_ What did you _say?_ Do we _have_ to go?”

Dean stared at him: “Hey, don’t look at _me_ , baby brother! She’s _your_ friend!”

Sam’s rueful expression changed into a definite surprised but sulky pout. “That’s exactly what _my_ Dean says to me whenever the subject of Sara comes up! _Exactly!_

Do you think if we went back to that factory, we could fix it so _I’m_ taken this time? At least until after this bloody _barbeque’s_ over with, anyway!”


	15. Chapter 15

“You going to tell me what’s going on?”

Dean started as Sam slammed the door open and marched into the bedroom they now shared. “ _Cas!_ You’ve known him over a week now: you _know_ he’s not going to hurt you! But every time he drops by, you avoid him! He’s _my_ Dean’s best friend and he just wants to _talk_ to you, to ask you about what might be happening there. To try and get some clue as to where Dean _is!_ What is it that you can’t bear to be in the same _room_ as him?”

Dean looked shamefaced and put the book that he had been curled up reading, safely on the side table. “It’s not....it’s not that I dislike him...”

“Then _what?_ He won’t hurt you! You can trust him! I mean that: he would _never_ hurt Dean. Well....” he had to stop talking as numerous instances of his brother having been beaten to near unconsciousness by the angel came to his mind. “But he’d never _mean_ to! You don’t have to leave the room when he’s around: _I’ll_ look after you if he makes you that nervous. But he’s okay... honestly!”

“I’m sorry: I’ll come out.” He was getting up from the bed, his head down, and moving to go past Sam out of the door. The young man sighed and put his hands up on his shoulders to stop him. He studied his brother in silence for a moment, then pulled him into a tight embrace, still with Dean’s head buried against his chest.

“I’m not _forcing_ you to sit with him: I just...don’t understand. It’s not as if you seem be frightened of him...not like you are of everyone else...”

“He’s _not_ everyone else.” The mumble was against his chest. “That’s the trouble.”

“What?”

“Forget it.”

“ _No!_ No.” He caught at Dean’s chin with his large hand and gently made him tip his head up to finally meet Sam’s worried hazel eyes. “What is it? Tell me...

Dean?”

The smaller man’s head went down again until he was leaning against Sam’s chest, his forehead pressing just between his brother’s collarbones. Sam didn’t understand, but his arms tightened around Dean instinctively. He rested his cheek against the soft head of hair and breathed in the sweet scent. “Come on. What is it?”

It seemed a long time, but eventually he heard the deep voice speak up, the words quietly drifting up to his ears.

“In _my_ world...it is said that Our Lady Moon originally created an Alpha for every omega, and an omega for every Alpha.

A _special_ one. A perfect match in every way. And you’ll know their scent immediately: it won’t only be an immediate aphrodisiac; it will seep into your soul; you won’t be able to exist without it; an irresistible force. Because that’s the one that was meant to be yours: your soul-mate.

You’ve only got to find them.

But...”

“But?”

“A few hundred years ago. The elite wanted their offspring to be Alphas: they decided it was.... they considered it... beneath their _status_ to have betas, or worse...omegas who were suddenly only considered suitable for _breeding_ , in their families. So...any pup who displayed the traits of an omega was...well, they disappeared.” He sighed, and finally moved enough to be able to press his full length against Sam’s body, his head still turned away as he talked, but relaxing a little from the security of his brother’s arms. ”Probably many Alphas died along with them, but there you go...”

“I still don’t understand.”

“That’s when the balance began to go wrong. Too many Alphas, not enough omegas. By the time they’d realised what they’d done, it was too late. From then on, anyone displaying the traits of omegas became a target: something to be used because we’re fertile. A status symbol, not a person. We became something to be desired, to be _owned!_

It’s been a downward spiral ever since.”

“Dean, I...”

“Most of us still believe in the idea of soul-mates, Sam. It’s still taught in schools as part of our origins. As part of our _doctrines_. But omegas...well, we aren’t given the choice. We’re claimed from just about as soon as we present. I’ve never heard of any _one_ of us ever having the choice of who we mate. Never.

And I’m not saying I don’t love Sam, because I _do_. And I’m happy, I really _am!_ He’s good to me, and I love my children. But...”

“ _Cas_ is your soul-mate.” Sam was suddenly understanding what this was about. “Or, at least, the Castiel in _your_ world is.”

His arms tightened even further as his brother looked at his feet again and his voice went so quiet that Sam could hardly hear it: “His scent has been driving me nuts. It’s only faint, like yours is, but...”

“Do you think you _could_ meet him in your world? Now you know what he looks like?”

Dean sniffed: “I love my children, Sam. And I love _Sam_. I would never hurt any of them by... And that’s even if I _did_ ever meet the Castiel in that world, which is very unlikely.” He paused momentarily, but suddenly continued with a rush of words. “But if I did, Sam, if I ever saw him now.... well, I would run in the opposite direction as fast as I could and hope that our scents never mingled, because it would cause so much upset and... hurt. But the...desire to _be_ with him from just this one’s _weak_ scent: it’s so _strong_ , Sam. That’s why I’ve been trying to stay clear of him.”

Sam kissed the top of his head: he knew what he had to do... but, oh God, he didn’t want to. He really didn’t want to.

“Would you like him to...would you _like_ to be with him? Here, in _this_ world? Even if it’s just once? Just to know... what it’s like? What it _should_ have been like...perhaps.”

He waited as Dean turned slightly pink in the face and stared at his feet. “No, I shouldn’t.” He pulled away from Sam, and made to move past him to leave the bedroom, but he still didn’t look up.

The younger man put his hand out and caught at his arm: “You _shouldn’t?_ That wasn’t really answering my question, Dean. Would you _like_ to... I mean, do you _want_ to?”

His brother glanced up at him and suddenly blushed fully, his whole head just about turning red including his ears. But he made no response.

He didn’t have to.

Sam smiled at him, as warmly as he could manage: “Well then.”

“I...”

“Just...stay there.” And Sam went to find the angel, trying to control his own frantically beating heart. He found him sitting quietly on one of the small leather couches, his hands folded between his knees, staring at nothing, lost in his own thoughts.

Sam perched himself on the empty cushion beside the other. “Cas...” He didn’t know what to say. More than that, he didn’t _want_ to say this. “Have you ever...I mean... I know you and Dean, _our_ Dean, are close. But...are you _more_ than friends... I mean...I know...well, I _think_ I know how Dean feels about you: he’s terrified of his own emotions, terrified of what _dad_ would have thought about it. Whether he’ll ever have the guts to say anything... or even admit it to _himself_. But...have _you_ ever wanted to be more than friends with him? Do you ...wonder what it would be like to... kiss him? Or ... do more...wake up next to him...”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in the response: Sam’s eyebrows raised. “Is that an incorrect feeling to have, Sam? I want to talk to Dean about it, but he always seems nervous if I ask anything about sex. Or if I stand too close to him: he _hates_ me being in his personal space.”

“No, it’s not incorrect. Men can like men, Cas. It’s _okay_ if you like Dean.” Sam paused: this was getting off topic. As well as way too _weird_. “Look, I can’t speak for Dean... _our_ Dean, that is... but _this_ Dean is...well, he’s been trying to keep away from you because he says you have the scent of his soul mate, the one that he might have had if the other Sam hadn’t already mated him. The one he _should_ have had. And I think... he’s embarrassed about it but I think he’s really attracted to you and he’d like to... I think he would like to be with you. If you’re interested, that is.”

“He would like to be with me, how, Sam?” Castiel tilted his head to gaze quizzically without a single blink straight into the other’s eyes. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say?”

The young man took a deep breath to calm himself: there was still time to walk away, Sam, still time to lie to Dean and say that Castiel wasn’t interested. “I think he’d like to sleep with you, Cas. He’s feeling the really strong attraction to you that he should have felt towards the Castiel of that world. If they’d ever met, that is. I think he’d...very much like to have sex with you. And he’s nervous that he feels like that.”

He felt himself redden as the angel stared at him seemingly without any reaction at all of any kind. Then: “I would like that very much as well, Sam. But...”

“But?”

“I don’t know what to do. What do I do? I would never hurt him, Sam. I would never hurt _either_ of them.”

Sam felt something suspiciously wet prickle around the edges of his eyes, but he forced himself to smile and get up from the couch. “I know you wouldn’t, Cas. And believe me: you’ll figure out what to do! Come on.”

He led the way back to Dean’s bedroom, knocked and opened the door, and stood aside to allow Castiel to move past him into the room. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Alpha?”

Sam paused from closing the door and looked to see Dean getting up from the bed and approaching him. “Hmm?”

Then his brother was reaching for his hand and pulling him in through the doorway. “Alpha, please stay. I... I do want this, but I need you here as well. Please?”

“Are you sure? I...”

“Please. I need you here.” And Dean was shutting the door firmly but with a slightly shaking hand and turning towards the other two occupants of the room.

It wasn’t only Dean that was nervous: this was uncharted territory for them all. There was a long silence as they all just looked at each other.

Finally the omega broke it, forcing himself to stand and actually talk to the angel: “I’ve never seen a being that has wings before. They’re very beautiful.”

“Thankyou. It is nice to have them appreciated.”

“Wait! _Wait!_ You can see his _wings?”_ Sam felt justifiably irritated when both of the other men...beings...turned to stare at him as if _he_ was the one that had suddenly announced that he could see invisible wings!

Dean frowned slightly and nodded: “Of course. How can you _miss_ them! As he turns, they catch the light and each feather...they _radiate_ with iridescence: all colours imaginable, far more than there are in gasoline when it floats on water. More colours than I’ve ever _seen_. They’re incredible: the most beautiful thing there can have ever been.” He was turning back to look at the angel as he spoke, his voice filled with awe.

“No.” And Castiel was stepping towards him. “They’re not more beautiful than you. Your soul, _both_ of your souls, are stunning. But your eyes... _his_ eyes: my favourite thing, _eternally_ my most favourite thing. _They_ are beautiful.”

They were now both standing face to face, although still a couple of feet of space between them. Sam could feel the sexual tension rising in the room and didn’t dare speak, or do anything to spoil the moment.

He could only watch as Dean hesitantly reached out towards the angel, but not to him. Instead he reached tentatively above his shoulder, almost above Castiel’s head height and slightly to one side of it. His fingers seemed to close gently around something: Sam could see the definition of each of his digits seem to be lost in the air itself as Dean touched something that was beyond his human sight.

And Castiel shuddered and moaned at the touch, his eyes closing in pleasure.

Then he was staring straight into Dean’s eyes again as, somehow the man was being propelled towards him, not forced, but as if held by something encircling him and drawing him closer to the angel. And Sam was aware of softness and the faintest of breezes wafting by his face, and he realised suddenly that it was Castiel’s wings wrapping around his brother and holding him far more securely and protectively, and passionately, that anyone ever would be able to with a mere pair of arms.

He could have wished that he wasn’t there to witness their first ever kiss: it should have been personal and private. But Sam was so glad that he _was_ there. Because it was everything he could have hoped that his brother, his _real_ brother, might one day get. It was so _obvious_ to him that Dean and Cas were meant for each other: it was fate. Surely there could _never_ be anyone else for either of them.

Then he felt that he really wasn’t needed in that room: that he was only intruding. Carefully he began to move towards the door once more, intending to slip through and leave them to each other. Dean wasn’t really his to be jealous about. Although he was. _Really_ jealous. And incredibly ashamed of himself that he was.

Dean broke free of Cas’s hold to catch hold of Sam’s hand instead: “Do you think I’m letting my Sam down, Alpha? Is that why you’re giving off such shame? I’m sorry if you find me acting disgracefully: I’m sorry. Please! I’ll behave!”

Sam could see him blinking tears away and hastily moved to comfort him. “I’m not angry at you! And I know how much Cas means to _my_ Dean, and I think he already means as much to _you!_ His scent is _telling_ you he is. I just think you two would be better alone.”

“No. It’s important you stay... you should be here. Please.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to get in _your_ way...” But his words were cut off as Dean reached up to put his arms around his neck and drew Sam’s mouth down to meet his lips with just as much passion as he had done in the previous minute with Castiel.

“Yours first, Alpha. _Always_.” Sam only just caught the whisper before he was kissing Dean back, just as desperately. And the smaller man was drawing him towards the bed, with Castiel right beside them both.

Then Dean stepped back from him and slowly undressed until he was standing exposed and nervously shivering in front of the two of them in the ultimate act of trust. Although he didn’t seem to realise that while he was so naively doing it, he had the whole attention of both of them focused on him in a way that a professional stripper would have envied.

Because _God_ , he was beautiful.

Neither of the others wanted to move first: well, they each _wanted_ to, but as it was, Sam waited for Castiel, and the angel waited for Sam. Then Dean once more took the decision out of their hands by moving to kneel in front of his brother and reaching up to release him from his pants.

“Dean, you don’t have to...” But he was already hard, and couldn’t help but moan as the caress of the warm mouth and tongue closed around him.

“Do you want me to stop? I will, if you say.”

“You... I... Oh... Oh God!” He now had a tight grip in Dean’s hair with both his hands and was regretting that he wasn’t able to last longer. He never _could_ with this look-alike Dean: there was just something about him that took Sam immediately from nothing to full-on arousal with just the slightest of touches or an innocent lick of his brother’s lips. He could only stand on definitely wobbly legs while his brother’s mouth took him to paradise and beyond, before staggering over to collapse inelegantly on the bed and finish undressing himself fully. Dean meanwhile crawled easily across the floor to Castiel to afford him the same pleasure.

“Wait.”

Dean paused anxiously as the angel momentarily stopped him from undoing his flies, then suddenly, between blinks, Castiel was somehow also completely naked, standing proudly and erect. Sam just had time to register that there was a really nice, firm, muscled masculine body beneath that funny old trenchcoat that he always wore, before his attention was taken by the expressions of surprise, intrigue, wonder and then complete ecstacy that flitted across Cas’s face as Dean seductively ran his hands up the firm thighs and knelt forward to take him in his mouth.

“I thought you were taking my father’s name in vain,” the angel gasped as his hips began to move forward involuntarily and his fingers sought purchase in the short hair, “but I realise now that you were _praising_ him! Oh....this is heaven itself!”

Sam laughed as the remaining slight tension in the room lifted, and Castiel’s gasps turned to moans as he also came in Dean’s mouth. “That was... that... I very much want to do that again. May I do it to _you_ , now?” This was to the man on his knees as he nuzzled sensually into the other’s groin.

But now Sam was back on his feet and approaching them to reach and pick Dean up in his arms, bridle style. “We _both_ will. I’m only just learning how to pleasure him, but I’ll teach you what I know so far.” He grinned suggestively down at his brother as he laid him gently on the bed, and followed him down enough to be able to tenderly kiss him. “Just lie back and enjoy.”

The rest of the night was occupied by an erotic version of ‘follow the leader’. Castiel would watch what Sam was doing, and then imitate his actions on Dean’s most sensitive areas: stroking and caressing, tasting and licking, until, between them, they had all but melted him into a demanding puddle of hyper-sensitive over-arousal in the bed and was begging them to fuck him into the mattress and finally satisfy him: _either_ of them, he didn’t _care_ who!

Now Sam let Castiel take the lead and moved enough away that the other had space to kneel between his brother’s legs on the bed. To his surprise, the angel used his shoulders to catch Dean’s legs over them and all but doubled the omega in two on the bed, thus answering the question about exactly how flexible both the reaper April Kelly had been, _and_ how much his brother was.

Well, this version of his brother anyway.

Then Castiel lay lazily and blissed-out on the bed beside them both while Sam was finally satisfying his own tremendous lust, occasionally leaning over to kiss Dean, or to wipe sweat from Sam’s brow as he built himself into an orgasmic frenzy. Any embarrassment between them had long since vanished.

But, even as Sam collapsed, fully sated and exhausted, to lie the other side of Dean, and he and Cas both settled themselves to hold the omega between them as he drifted contentedly to sleep, they could see in each other’s eyes the same burning question.

What was going to happen when the _real_ Dean came back?


	16. Chapter 16

“I’m sorry, but Mr Winchester is in court today and can’t be reached.”

“Can you at least get a message to him for me then? I’ve tried calling his cell, _and_ texting, but so far there’s been no response.”

“I’m sorry, but he can’t be interrupted. The trial will be in session for some time, and it’s more than likely that he’s turned his phone off so as not to be held in contempt. I can pass on a message if he calls the office after though.”

“Can you just tell him that this is his mate, Dean. And that the school has been calling as our son Johnny has been ill twice now this morning, and is waiting with the school nurse to be picked up as soon as possible. Could he call me please?”

“Of course: I’ll make sure to give him the message as soon as he contacts us.”

Dean sighed as he hung up the landline: what did he do now? He had been trying to reach Sam ever since the school had contacted him an hour earlier. He had already tried Annie’s number to see if she, or even Sara, would be able to accompany him to get to the unwell little boy, but she wasn’t answering her cell phone. Which in itself was a worry: Dean hoped she hadn’t done anything stupid.

But right now, getting Johnny home was his most pressing concern.

And there was only _one_ option left.

Dean waited a moment, hoping that the phone would ring and it would be Sam....or Annie....or anyone that could help him. But it didn’t.

Okay then: plan B. No other choice.

Even as Dean hurried up the stairs, he could hear his brother....this _Alpha_ version of his brother... angrily shouting at him in his head, telling him not to be so stupid, to just stay there and wait. That _he_ would sort it as soon as he could.

But there was a little boy that was sick, and who probably wanted the closest thing that he had to a mom at the moment, with him.

He reached the main bedroom and immediately headed for the washing basket in the corner, tipping the dirty laundry all out on the floor so he could frantically search for what he needed. The criteria of what he wanted was simple: it had to be something that he could wear without looking like he was a child playing dress-up in grownup’s clothes, and it had to _reek_ of Sam’s scent!

The latter was easiest: Dean didn’t understand how, but Sam’s scent had seemed to have gotten far more noticeable to him with every day of the two or so weeks that he had been there now. He supposed he was just getting used to it. And to the children’s as well, he didn’t even have to turn around to see when one or more of them were in a room with him now: somehow he just knew.

But to find something of Sam’s that he could wear out in the street without looking ridiculous enough that he would catch the very attention he was hoping to try to avoid...? Finally, at the bottom of the pile, was an old t-shirt that Sam had slept in a couple of nights before that had looked to be small on him, and a pair of casual slacks that he had grumbled about having to replace because all of Dean’s good cooking was making them feel tight!

The human hastily showered before pulling Sam’s strong-scented garments on, edging the hems of the pants underneath themselves to try and make them short enough: okay, he looked slightly ridiculous, but if he could just get to the school and back without attracting the unwanted attention of any Alphas...

He was already so sick of it: he didn’t know how the other Dean could _bear_ it. Dean had never really thought much about what sexual harassment meant before, but... these last couple of weeks....

Besides the meal out where he and Mary-Anne had been assaulted in the restroom, there had been an incident at Johnny’s Little League game, where Dean had _definitely_ felt his ass being cupped as he and Samuel had waited at the snack stand to buy hot dogs. He had started with surprise and turned ready to punch somebody out, but luckily Samuel had managed to stall his hand before he could strike: the young man stepping forward himself to face down the smirking Alpha behind them, whose denials quickly turned to stammered apologies upon the appearance of an irate Sam.

Even a simple day out in a beautiful Memorial Park had been blighted, and Dean shuddered despite himself from just thinking about it.

They had gone the previous weekend, along with so many other families who had had the same idea, to enjoy the increasing Spring sunshine and fresh air with a simple picnic. Mary-Anne and Johnny had been excited and full of energy, and had wound all the older males of the family up enough until it had ended in a game of ‘chase’, with Sam and Samuel racing after the two eagerly squealing youngsters as they dodged around a large open grassed area that led down to a large pond, leaving Dean, somewhat to his annoyance, on his own with the blanket and basket of food.

There were other families around doing the same, and Dean, automatically feeling uneasy at being in the midst of them, quickly moved to a more secluded position at the edge of the small crowd, close to some trees.

He had only just got the blanket down when he sensed someone behind him and turned instantly to face whoever it was. Or rather, he had tried to.

Because, even as Dean started to turn in anticipation of having to dodge a blow or a fist from his unknown adversary, he was taken by surprise by instead suddenly finding one large arm being wrapped tightly around his torso and upper limbs from behind, while his assailant’s other arm clamped a large hand, containing a cloth that _stunk_ of something chemically, over his mouth and nose.

A stench from some chemical that immediately made Dean’s head swim and his eye lids feel heavy. Not to mention his limbs, followed by the rest of his body.

He was foggily aware in his mind that he was being dragged backwards, into the full cover of the trees. And he was vaguely aware of hearing snatches of voices as he drifted more towards unconsciousness: “A male omega... couldn’t believe my eyes!” “We’ll make a _fortune_ from him... _everyone_ will want a piece.” “How close... get the van?” “There’s a small track... other side of these trees... dump him in the back.” “Should be easy, he’s almost under anyway... _Shit!_ ”

There was a strange noise. And Dean was falling to the ground as his captor suddenly released and dropped him, but he didn’t know why. Nor why his ‘captor’, a tall, thin, skinny looking creep with a hooked nose and thin lips, had also crumpled into an uncomfortable looking heap beside him.

And then Dean hazily registered the strange mark on his head: the one that made the man look like he had a small third eye in the centre of his forehead.

Made by a bullet from a silenced revolver.

Dean caught his breath, trying desperately to get some _un_ -chemically saturated air into his lungs. He could hear the other voices clearer now, the ones that had sounded arrogant and leering just a few short moments before, but now seemed just frightened. They were pleading.

“Shit. _You_ take him: we don’t want any trouble. We didn’t realise... we’ll just get out of your way. _Please._ ”

“The trouble is, boys,” Dean recognised _that_ voice: whose was _that_ voice? “Is that we have a slight problem here. Two in fact.”

“We won’t tell anyone, honest.” The tone, as Dean’s head finally began to clear enough to hear it properly, was beyond fear now: it had matured to sheer terror. “We won’t come anywhere _near_ the park again.”

“It’s not because you’re near the _park_ , boys. It’s because _this_ omega is personal property. Not that he knows it yet... But he is.

And also... well... the boss owns all the franchises on the sex trade in the state! Did you _really_ think that you were just going to muscle in on the action and he would turn a blind eye....?”

“We _didn’t_ think: it was just a stupid off-the-cuff idea! We won’t do it again!”

“Oh, boys...I know you won’t.”

“No, no, no.... _please!_ ”

Even as Dean struggled to make himself sit up, he felt his body be kicked at and trodden on a few times by panicked and uncaring feet as his two other would-be abductors desperately tried to resist their _own_ forced departure. And the body of the first man was also being easily lifted and removed from the scene.

Dean sat on the ground, rubbing at his new bruises and stamped-on fingers and gratefully gulping in deep breaths of air, and stared at the man who had been terrorising the Alphas just the moment before, and who was _now_ crouching down easily to stare back at him.

The man in the suit from the restroom. And from the car that was always parked opposite the family’s house. He had saved Dean again.

But he was now talking to Dean. Or rather, _at_ him. “Your Alpha sure is an ass-hole, isn’t he? He _really_ doesn’t get it: how _unsafe_ it is for you outside. Because _he’s_ big....he thinks that’s _enough_.... _unbelievable!”_

“What do you mean: I’m personal property?” Dean could hear his own voice sounding slightly slurred and hastily took in another couple of breaths.

“Lucky you _are!_ Otherwise you would just have become a statistic, little omega. Just another...’disappeared’.”

“I...what?” Dean’s head was now clearing of the fuzziness, but the remnants of whatever chemical it had been on the cloth were leaving him with a pounding headache. The man in the suit raised his arm to point over his shoulder and despite himself Dean turned as ordered, to look back through the trees from the small clearing that they were in and see the open grassed area and the smiling, relaxed faces of the throng of families ensconced in it.

“Back you go. And for Our Lady’s sake, _move_ your blanket away from the _trees!_ ” And he was getting easily up off his haunches and stepping away from Dean, who also struggled to his feet to begin to try and walk in the commanded direction despite feeling slightly wobbly on his legs. The man in the suit waited and watched as he carefully made his way back through to the large area full of happiness and laughter.

No one seemed to have noticed what had happened. Not a single person.

He had just about all but collapsed on the (now moved) blanket when Mary-Anne came charging straight across it and dived on him, causing him to wince. A lot. “Where _were_ you? I was looking around but I couldn’t _see_ you!”

“I’ve been here.”

“No, you _haven’t._ Where _were_ you?”

And now Samuel was there, his wide smile fading immediately as he also sat down and looked at Dean. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing”

“Don’t lie to me: I can _smell_ your distress! And...” he leant across and sniffed at Dean, his green eyes widening with alarm, “someone _else_ on you. An _Alpha!_ What’s _happened_ , are you alright? Why are you holding your hand that way? Who’s _hurt_ you?”

“Nothing! It’s _fine! I’m_ fine!”

“Dean. Tell me.”

And to his own surprise, Dean nearly _told_ the young man. He felt as if he _wanted_ to tell Samuel. Then he managed to shake the urge off. “It’s nothing, Sammy. Let’s not spoil the day.”

The boy bit his lip but remained silent even as they both noticed Sam and Johnny coming back up the slope towards them, red-faced and sweaty but laughing uproariously together in the bright sunshine. Although he _did_ deliberately move to sit his body as close as possible to Dean’s, almost _too_ close, leaning intentionally against him, putting his arm openly around the human, and rubbing at his back to try and smother some of the offensive scent with his own.

And indeed, the scent of his cologne did help Dean to calm his heart rate to slow down to a more normal level. He did like that soap or aftershave or whatever it was that Samuel had started using: idly he wondered if he could buy it when he finally managed to return home to his own world.

Then his thoughts were being interrupted as Sam collapsed with exaggerated exhaustion on the blanket, his wide grin switching off immediately as he also scented Dean’s pain and stress. _And_ the other intolerable scent on him. But even as he began to erupt into questions, the older man was stalling him, asking with his eyes to let it go until they got home.

Sam had quietened for the sake of his children, his own scent spiking and giving away his immense rage, but that was enough to warn Dean that he would be sensible to tell his brother exactly what had happened immediately they got back. And even more sensible: to do it willingly before Sam decided to hold him down and _force_ him to.

Now Dean visibly shivered and tried to put the memory of that day out of his head. No time to think of how close he had come to being snatched....

Not when he had to get to Johnny.

Not when he had to risk going to the school on his own.

Because he didn’t want to admit it, even to himself....but the thought of going out of that front door into this strange and actually quite terrifying world, without Sam’s, or Samuel’s, hand holding his own, or gently guiding his arm, or simply touching the small of his back, was making him nervous.

“You’re being ridiculous, Dean. You’re a _Hunter_ , for God’s sake! You’ve fought vampires: you’ve fought _demons!_ Get out of that door!”

At the last minute he noticed Samuel’s new jacket hanging on the row of hooks and pulled it down to try it on: at least the sleeves were long enough to look normal on him and it covered the slight bagginess of Sam’s t-shirt and pants on him, even if he _daren’t_ try and do the front zip up.

He took a deep breath, forced himself to calm down, and set out to walk quickly to the school.

It wasn’t far, only a couple of streets away really. He had walked it just about every morning since he had arrived, but this time it felt so different. Even though he tried to keep his head down and hoped to avoid eye contact with everyone he met, Dean couldn’t help from feeling anxious.

Luckily it was late morning and there weren’t too many people around. Uh oh, he had relaxed too soon: there were a gaggle of new mothers emerging from some baby exercise class at the local sports centre. And female Alphas made just as lewd comments to him as male ones did.

Some were even worse.

Dean caught himself thinking seriously about crossing the road to avoid them and felt vaguely ashamed: what would his Sam think of him if he saw him like this, avoiding a group of women? But his heart still pounded as he took a couple of hesitant steps to one side and, keeping his head bowed, let them all walk by him. Even as they giggled and gossiped, a couple of them were sniffing the air as they passed and looking in his direction with interest. One even looked as if she were going to turn the baby buggy around and come back to him. Quickly Dean hurried on.

It was a relief when he turned the last corner and saw the school entrance. Dean _felt_ himself sigh with relief.

He almost started out of his skin when a hand suddenly clamped onto his arm and he was being pulled backwards: “Now, what’s a pretty thing like _you_ doing out on your own?”

The voice was deep and male; the hand was large; the scent was Alpha. Dean wasn’t waiting around to see any more of him: he was pulling himself free from the grasp within the next second, grateful that he had pulled the slightly shiny jacket on so the man hadn’t been able to get a really tight grip on his bare arm, and _ran_. Faster than he had ever felt himself run before: so fast that he was up the steps and at the entrance to the school before he had realised and was pressing the button urgently to be allowed access.

The receptionist was there within an instant, having seen his hasty approach through the window. “Mr Winchester! What are you doing here on your own? Are you alright: was that man harassing you? It’s _disgraceful_ : in broad daylight as well!”

The pretty beta brunette was outraged on his behalf, but Dean now had only concern: “Where’s Johnny? The nurse said he was pretty bad....”

“I’ll take you down there. But...you should really both stay here until your mate arrives, Mr Winchester.”

But that wasn’t an option as far as Dean was concerned. Not when a pale, tearful little boy, wearing different clothes than he had left home in that morning, was throwing himself into his arms, snivelling and sniffing, and telling him that his belly hurt and he ‘just wanted to go home, please could they just go home’? Dean had Johnny up in his arms and was back out to the entrance before he had even thought about it.

Only then did he hesitate: was that Alpha still out there? But he couldn’t see anyone. Then he was blinking in surprise as a black car pulled up in front of the steps.

And the front passenger’s door was opening, and the man in the suit was getting out.

And standing with an expression of bemused exasperation on his face as if waiting for him.

Hesitantly Dean carried the huddled-up boy down the steps and walked towards the man. “Get in the car, Dean.”

“I... what?”

“If you needed help to get your son, then you only had to ask. You know we’re here: _we_ know you know we’re here! You’re not stupid: we can see that. But you shouldn’t put yourself at risk: you’ve no _need_ to. Just ask! Now get in the car, little omega, and we’ll take you and your son home....

 _Now._ ” As Dean still stalled.

With a sigh, he obeyed and got into the rear door that was being held open, hugging Johnny close to him. The journey back was taken in total silence, but the driver drew the car up smoothly right in front of their house, and the man in the suit was helping them both out again. “Take care of yourself, Dean. Keep _safe_.”

He remained there until Dean had led Johnny into the house and closed the door behind them. Then Dean was leaning with his back to it in disbelief: what was going on? He was grateful that the man had been there.... yet _again_ , but....why?

First thing first though. “You settle on the couch. Do you want the TV on? Or a movie? I better call your dad and let him know you’re okay.”

“Okay Dee. I’m feeling a bit better now. _Thank_ _you_ for coming to get me home. Any chance of your spicy lentil soup? Yours is better than mom’s!”

“Oh, you’re _really_ sick!”

But he went to make some, feeling in his pocket for his cell phone on the way. It wasn’t there. Dean was _sure_ he had it with him when he went out, but perhaps, when he had changed...it might be just upstairs. He used the land line to call Sam’s work anyway and left a message.

Three hours or so later, when Johnny was sound asleep beneath a warm blanket on the couch, (and Dean had sat and cuddled him and watched the end of Star Wars on his own anyway, just because!), he had all but torn the house apart looking for his cell. It was nowhere to be found. He must have dropped it as he ran, or in the black car, or...somewhere...

Not that it was important here. Most of the numbers on it didn’t even work in this world. But Annie’s number was now on it, and the picture of his dad and himself that he had copied, and it was just about the only thing he had from _home_...

The question of where it _was_ , was answered by the doorbell ringing unexpectedly. Dean went to answer it and blinked with surprise at the person standing outside.

“Mr Manolli?”

Sam had returned more angry and upset than ever from that last stake-out. He had told Dean about it between his relentless paces around the bedroom: he, the ‘informant’, and the police had sat for hours watching and waiting at the address given, but to no avail. Finally one team had been sent inside the building, only to find that the information supplied had been correct in everything but the timing. Everybody inside the sparse rooms was _already_ dead, in a vicious massacre of a rival would-be drug cartel that had obviously been planned perfectly and executed just _before_ their arrival.

All the local CCTV cameras had been checked to no avail, anyone unlucky enough to have been in the vicinity had been questioned: there was _nothing_ to link any of it to the man that Sam was so desperate to catch. Nothing to link any of his men even: the investigation had quickly reached a dead end. It would be just another ‘open’ case.

And now here was the mob boss himself, standing on Dean’s door step, bold as brass.

He was dressed in another immaculately expensive suit; silk tie; diamond tie pin; platinum Rolex; hand-made Italian shoes. And once again he was staring straight at Dean, taking in every single detail: from the old and faded t-shirt to the ill-fitting pants, to the superbly muscled body beneath. _Especially_ the body beneath.

Dean felt himself blush as the man’s blue eyes darkened with lust as they looked at him. Even more when the older man began as if about to speak, but suddenly his eyes were widening as he inhaled. _Deeply_. Then they were closing with pleasure as the man moaned and indulged his sharpest natural sense. And his eyes were opening once more to focus on Dean with such intense darkness in them that the human took a step backwards despite himself.

“I didn’t notice the last time: how could I have _missed_ that? Oh, my Lady! What a prize you are!”

“What do you want?” Dean all but spat the words out, trying desperately to keep himself from punching this arrogant son-of-a-bitch out: he was so _sick_ of being looked at as if he were a nothing. Worse than a nothing: an _object_. Everyone here talked about him as if he were not a living, feeling person, but an object. And he _hated_ it!

“You have absolutely _no_ fear of me, have you? You look at me with such burning hatred, such _intensity_...those green eyes... absolutely hypnotic!

Everyone else watches what they say... tiptoe around my reputation. They’re all afraid of me... You will be such a _challenge_ , omega. You have no _idea_ how much I’m looking forward to it.”

“To what? And if you’re going to say, about _having_ me? Because that’s all I’m _good_ for? Because I’m just an _omega?_ Then _I’m_ going to shove your polished shoes up your polished _ass!_ Now... _What_ do you _want?_ ”

“Only to return your cell phone, my dear Dean.” And he was holding out the small gadget, and despite himself, Dean was reaching to take it. “You dropped it in the back seat of my men’s car: oh...I _know_ you know they’re my men! They’ve already reported to me that you seem to be the brains of your relationship! They found it when it rang: your friend Annie’s barbeque is next weekend by the way, anytime from two in the afternoon ‘til late. I think the weather’s meant to be good. Summer is on its way, Dean. A new season...

Change is in the air.”

“ _Dean!_ ”

They both turned in time to see Sam pulling his car up onto the driveway in a hurry, his expression a mixture of anger and worry. “Please tell me you weren’t so _stupid_ as to go to the school on your own? Do you _realise_ what might have...”

His expression changed to one of horror-struck fear when he suddenly realised who his mate was standing at the front door with. He didn’t even bother closing the car door behind him as he literally leapt out of the driver’s seat. “What the....what... What are you doing here? Dean, get inside! _Now!_ And _you!_ Get _away_ from him! Get away from us _all!_ ”

Dean couldn’t help himself: he had to physically bite down the chuckle that threatened to escape at his brother’s posturing.

Mr Manolli also seemed to think Sam’s stammered reaction was amusing. “You see?” He turned to Dean with what actually seemed to be a genuine smile. “ _That’s_ the usual reaction I get! Like I said, I’m ready for something new to excite me, to get my ‘juices flowing’, as they say.

I think you’re going to fit the bill nicely.

And, Mr Winchester.” He was turning his attention back to Sam, who had by now marched up to them both and was reaching decisively to physically pull his brother behind himself. “Dean had the good sense to ask my men for assistance. _They_ saw him safely to the school and back. That’s exactly what I’ve had them there for.”

“You’ve been _watching_ us, you bastard!” The younger man was almost spitting the words at him.

“I’ve been _guarding_ your tremendous asset, Sam. A male omega...that’s a very rare thing nowadays. It’s my civic _duty_ to protect him. He’s _all_ our futures! You can check with the authorities: I’ve been quite open with them. They know I’ve been providing protection for him, out of my own pocket of course. The mayor himself, who is actually a very good friend of mine, thinks that it’s _very_ socially responsible. But I’m sorry if you think it’s invading your privacy, Sam...

I’m sure you can protect him far better on your own...

Just like you did in the park!

Anyway, you take care of yourself, Dean. And I hope your son’s feeling better soon.

Goodbye, Mr Winchester.”

And Mr Manolli was moving calmly past Sam to return to his own car. He glanced back as his driver opened the door for him and smiled with satisfaction when he noticed Dean retreating quickly into the house as Sam stalked in after him, the younger man’s handsome face set rigid with rage.

“Soon, Dean.

Very soon, now.”

 

..........................................................................................................................................

 

“Sam? Sam. Wake up! We’re back at the motel.”

Sam stirred and came awake with a start. Shit, he must have fallen asleep. And God, how his head hurt. Carefully he tried to sit up from his uncomfortable position of being asleep whilst being leant pressed against the passenger side door and window. And shit: somehow his head now hurt even worse!

“Come on.” And Dean was coming around the Impala to help him out. “I parked as close as I could get to our room, at least it’s quiet here. How’s the injury? You got banged up pretty hard. Are you hungry? Can we order something in for you perhaps?”

“No. I’m just ready to sleep. Are _you_ though? You don’t eat much at the best of times. Shall I go and get you something?”

“You just get into bed. I’ll live until the morning.” And Dean was helping Sam into the darkened room and settling him down on one of the twin single beds there.

They were in the only room that the motel had had left. They had come to Columbia to deal with a ghost that had been killing residents at a small hotel in the town. Sam had felt that he _should_ , seeing as it was about as local to the bunker as a job could get, although, once again, he was worried about how his brother would deal with such strange goings on.

And about keeping him safe.

But, once again, this new Dean had proved more than up to the challenge. _Far_ more.

Because, as Sam had been stalking the hastily vacated rooms with his EMF meter, Dean had simply tapped him on the shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to pick up some sign of where is being haunted: it should tell us where the ghost is.”

Dean wrinkled his forehead with confusion as he looked up at him. “Well, he’s _there_.” And he was pointing to an area beside the window of the old dining room that they were in.

“What? Where?” Sam turned hastily but couldn’t see anything. But the device in his hand as he held it out informed him that his brother was correct. “What’s it doing?”

“Watching _us_ at the moment. What _are_ you doing?” And he was crossing the room towards the window, leaning his denimed ass against the table, and _listening_. “He says he’s fed up with all this noise in his house: it’s his home and they should all just get out and leave him alone.”

“Wait...What? _Wait!_ You can see and _hear_ him?”

But even as his brother was incredulously moving over to join him, Dean was turning back to the invisible being and continuing the strangest one-sided conversation that Sam had ever witnessed: “That’s not fair, though. How long have you been dead?.... Yes, you’re _dead!_... Well, look at yourself for Our Lady’s sake!... I don’t care you can’t! You’re dead! Time to let this place go, let it enjoy being lived in again... You’re _dead!_ What does it matter?... They seem a nice family, with the three pups! Why _shouldn’t_ they be allowed here? I bet they love it just as much as you did... you see, you _like_ the way they’ve decorated the downstairs, and they’ve kept much of it original. They didn’t _have_ to! What’s _wrong_ with them being allowed to be happy here?... Well, they need the revenue from the guests to stay here... and they _want_ to stay here! It’s their home, their _dreams_. Not yours! I’m sorry, but yours have gone! It’s time to move on.... oh, okay.”

And Dean was looking around at Sam with a wide smile. “He says he supposes so, but he doesn’t know how. Can we help him?”

The younger man just stared at him, his mouth wide open. It wasn’t often that Sam Winchester was speechless, but....he was _speechless_.

“What?” Dean was naively cute in his innocence.

“You... You....can talk to ghosts? Not only talk to them, but... hear them talk _back?_ ”

He continued to stare as the older man pushed himself back to sit fully on the table, swinging his shorter legs carelessly as he studied Sam’s confusion. “Why are you so surprised, Sam? I’ve been reading your books in the Bunker: they all make mention that most other animals here have senses that your species doesn’t! And that often they give the first clue as to what is going on... What?” And he was turning back to once more talk to the empty air. “No, I’m not human, well, I’m not like everyone else here.... No, I’m not sure _what_ they would say I am: I’m not _from_ this world.... No, I have no idea. Or how to get back. It’s all been a very strange couple of weeks...”

“ _Dean!”_ And Sam was waving his hands at him in agitation. “ _Just...!_ ”

“Just what, Sam?”

“Just...” And Sam didn’t know how to put across what he wanted to say, or do, or _think_ at this unanticipated turn of events!

In the end, he just put one large hand across his brother’s mouth and held up his other to his own lips to press his forefinger against them. “Just...shush. Please. Stop talking to ... Just stop. Please.”

Dean obeyed, even though his eyes instinctively flicked to where the ghost was, and from his shrug and raised eyebrows, Sam had the irritated feeling that they were both in agreement about _him!_ He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down enough to think.

“We normally salt and burn the bodies of trapped spirits: where is _his_ body? Ah!!” As he uncovered Dean’s lips hesitantly. “ _Just_ the answer! _Not_ a conversation!”

So Dean had found out in which graveyard the spirit’s body had been buried, and then that night he and Sam had gone to salt and burn it. Although the younger man had found himself doing it _all_ , as the deceased man had been so thrilled to be able to actually communicate with someone after being dead for so many years, that in the end Dean had just sat with him by the side of his grave and they had talked!

And actually, he had gotten on so well with the murderous ghost that Dean had been quite emotional when the spirit had smiled his thanks at him before disappearing forever in a blaze of flames, and his eyes had filled with tears. Sam had been in such a rush to get round and comfort him that he hadn’t quite watched what he was doing, and had slipped a little as he moved...and fallen straight into the still open grave, luckily missing the still smouldering remains, but inadvertently immediately cheering his hysterically laughing brother up and banging his head hard at the same time.

He could hear Dean _still_ trying to smother his chuckling as he helped Sam undress and climb beneath the covers of the bed. “It wasn’t _that_ funny!”

“It was, Sammy. It really was! All I could see was these long limbs of yours waving frantically as they disappeared into that dark hole!” And he was gone again, though he tried to control his shaking shoulders when he heard the younger man’s sigh. “Here.” And he was gently helping Sam to slide down the mattress until he was laying full length on his back, and then Dean was gently starting to work his way _down_ Sam’s full length with his mouth, nuzzling and licking and kissing from his neck down to his chest, and beyond.

Sam felt immediately arousal despite his painful injured head: “Dean, I... I really need to get some sleep, I... thanks for driving us back....but I’m so tired, I...”

“I know, Sammy. Your turn to shush...” And his lips were closing around his brother’s erectness and sucking him into his mouth. Sam sighed with pleasure and just gave in to the older man’s expertise, feeling an orgasm rise within him until every single last bit of tension in his body emptied explosively out of him due to Dean’s incredible talent. He fell into a deep sleep almost immediately afterwards and didn’t even hear the motel room door opening again.

Dean wandered outside into the quiet darkness. Not that it seemed dark to him: his eyes were so good that he could see nearly as clearly at night as he could in the daytime. He enjoyed being out so late, with nobody else around: nobody to try and hurt him, or worse: try and abduct him. Dean had heard so often of that happening, and the thought terrified him, he didn’t _know_ what he would do if that ever happened to him. But at least Kansas City seemed to be safer than most other places: the chances of anything like that happening _there_...

But, just for a few minutes, he could stand outside and enjoy some solitude in this strange world, with only the sounds of the nocturnal wildlife rustling in his ears, and the stars above providing the most perfect backdrop to his musings. How he missed his children. And how he missed _his_ Sam.

And how Dean hoped his mate would understand about him accepting the Castiel of this world as a lover, even if it was only temporary while he was here. Sam had told him often enough of his own out-of-control desire for Dean once he had presented: he just hoped that he would keep that in mind when informed of Dean’s actions when meeting the look-alike of his soul mate. The _need_ to be with the being called Castiel had just been so _strong_ : Dean had never, _ever_ , in his whole life, known anything like that before.

And how he hoped and prayed to Our Lady that he would _never_ meet the real Castiel: the one from his world. The one he was supposedly created to have been with. Because he would never, _ever_ , want to hurt his Sam or his children, but...if he _did_ meet the real one, and had to face the _full_ strength of that scent...

But, all this was just conjecture, Dean supposed, as first... he had to _get_ back home.

On that thought, he fumbled into his pocket for the stone to check it yet _again_ that day. It still looked like what it was, a normal pebbley-looking stone: no glow, no nothing. Dean sighed. There was nothing abnormal or supernatural looking about it in any way. Apart from the part of it that looked as if it had melted in some intense heat, that is: that part was as polished and shiny as a mirror.

He tipped it in his hand, even though he could probably draw every inch of it from memory as he had studied it that much. As he did, Dean was startled by a sudden reflection on it: for a moment he had thought he had seen the...

Just for a moment he was _sure_ it had been a perfect image of the full moon. Of Our Lady at her most divine. But... he looked up at the sky, doubting his own mind momentarily.

Nothing.

There had been no sign of Our Lady for the last few nights: he had looked at every chance, trying to keep track of her perpetual progression. Since he had arrived here, Dean had watched her wane, and pass into the New Moon stage, and although he had lost the exact stage of the phase, she must be due to start to wax imminently. But... he glanced down again at the stone still held tightly in his hand. He could have sworn that he had _seen_ her, or at least her reflection. In her full majestic beauty.

There was a battered and broken old fence close to the motel. Dean moved to lean against it, still studying the night sky. Still bewildered about what he had just seen...or simply imagined. And as he watched, the clouds were blown out of the way and he _did_ see her: only the tiniest sliver of a crescent showing, the very beginning of a waxing moon.

Dean felt his spirits lift immediately: Our Lady was there with him. He knew she always was anyway, _especially_ as he had recently had the tremendous _honour_ of seeing her in corporeal form, but as beautiful as she had been when walking beside him, nothing would _ever_ fill him with as much reverence, and internal _peace_ , as herself in her own perfect celestial form.

And he was determined that whether he was still in this world, or had somehow managed to find a way home, he would make sure that he followed the necessary dedications to her honour when she finally rose as the Full Moon. It was a night that all his people kept sacred, a night of joyful observation every single lunar phase. Nothing and nobody on _either_ world would prevent him from giving Our Lady the full respect that she deserved.

But for now, Dean bowed his head, moved the tips of his first two fingers and thumb to his mouth in supplication as per the tradition of his people, and sent the Deity a kiss straight from his heart. And a prayer: for her, if it pleased her in her infinite grace, to keep watch over his mate and his children, and the other lost Dean, and to keep them all safe.

He was just straightening up to head back to the motel when Dean heard the noise of wings behind him, and turned to greet his angel with a smile. And a passionate kiss as Castiel moved immediately to embrace him, his mouth devouring Dean’s with as desperate a hunger as a starving man’s: his scent enveloping the man once more with that desire that he just couldn’t help himself against.

“I love once again being able to find you just by thinking about you: and I think about you _all_ the time, Dean.” Cas didn’t even break the kiss to speak, then he was suddenly pulling back with an anxious expression as he realised: “But... Are you _alright?_ Why are you out here on your _own?_ Where’s Sam?”

Dean smiled at the other’s concern. “Already asleep: he hit his head earlier and wasn’t feeling very well. And I’m not alone out here: my Lady is with me.” He indicated the thin crescent shining above them. “But are you coming inside?” And he moved to take the other’s hand, and lead the way back to his and his brother’s room.

Even as Dean opened the door, he couldn’t resist one final glance into the sky to say goodnight. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” He told Castiel. “Even in this, her newest state.”

“She is indeed.” Castiel agreed, and he paused to stare at the narrow crescent shape of the moon as Dean finally went inside the room.

Then the angel stopped, and stared some more.

Because he had the strangest but undeniable, _certainness_ of feeling inside himself: that, even as _he_ was looking up at the beautiful silvery sliver of that celestial body....

 _She_ was watching _him_ as well.


	17. Chapter 17

The first thing Dean knew about it was when he found himself being physically picked off his feet and his back slammed hard against the wall. Gasping for breath, he stared across wide-eyed into his brother’s angry, cold ones.

“Do you want to tell me what the hell _this_ is?”

Dean stared at the small piece of paper that was being thrust almost into his face. Shit, it was the number that supposedly gave contact to the F.A.O. He must have dropped it when he was hiding the old laptop and all his notes. _Shit._

“Are you going to _answer_ me? Have you been calling this? _Have_ you?” Dean felt a tremor of fear travel through his body: Sam was _really_ mad. Deservedly. And he was really strong. And not adverse to using his strength against Dean when he was in a _good_ mood. Nervously he licked his lips.

“I _have_ called it, Sam. But not why you think.” Wrong thing to say: his brother’s eyes impossibly darkened even more. Only complete honesty was going to help him now. “Annie found the number, Sam. And I was worried: about her, and _for_ her. I talked her into letting me check it out. Or least, try to.”

“And you expect me to _believe_ that? What have you been _planning_ , Dean? Did...did you take my mate deliberately? Is that where he is? Is that why you’re _here?_ Have you just been _lying_ to me from the start?”

“No! _No_ , Sam! You’re over-reacting!” Wrong thing to say again: his back was pulled away from the wall slightly and slammed back even harder, forcing the air out of Dean’s lungs. He felt his ribs start to complain beneath the pressure from his brother’s full weight pressing against him, and his vision began to blur as Sam’s arm came across his neck. “ _Really!_ I was just worried about _Annie!_ And I’ve told you everything truthfully since I got here! I don’t _know_ how I got here! You’re just not thinking clearly because Manolli has got you so wrapped around his little finger!”

“Not this again, Dean!” And Sam was releasing him just as suddenly as he had grabbed him, and turning away while rubbing his long fingers through his long hair in agitation. “What would have happened if I hadn’t come home when I did? Fancy answering the _door_ to him! Not to mention standing and talking to that bastard! You could have been dragged to the car, and gone, and I wouldn’t have known where or what had happened... if I hadn’t come home... ”

“For God’s sake, Sam! Why won’t you just _listen?_ He _knew_ you were on your way home! He arrived there _minutes_ before you arrived! Literally only _minutes!_ He _wanted_ you to see him there! He wanted you to react like this! He’s playing you, Sam! He’s playing _us!_ For God’s sake: the question has got to be _why?_ Surely you can _see_ that? What is he _up_ to, Sam?”

“You’re making too much of this, I keep telling you. He’s just a bastard, who _wants_ you, Dean. And he was there to _take_ you that day! He would have! How could you be so _stupid?_ ”

“ _Me_ , stupid? Sam, he’s _playing_ you! He’s been playing you from the start! This ‘informant’ of yours? You said you had him in ‘hiding’: that Manolli _betrayed_ him? Men like Manolli don’t ‘betray’ people, Sam! They simply don’t leave them _alive!_ And _if_ he’d betrayed him, and if this man had gone into ‘hiding’, then how is it that he _knows_ so much?

You said the police described that room as like a massacre scene, Sam? And he told you it was going to happen? _How?_ How did he know? From where? From _who?_ ‘Cos if it got back to Manolli that he was telling you...? Well, _nobody_ could hide him well enough! _Or_ themselves!

And _now_ he wants you to follow him right across the State, because he’s got ‘something’ he thinks you’d want to _see?_ Just you: you’re not even taking the police with you! Please, Sam, I’m _telling_ you, don’t go, because It don’t make sense. Because it isn’t _real!_ He’s _working_ for Manolli: he’s feeding you scraps that that bastard _wants_ you to have! He’s setting you up! _Why_ , Sam?”

“You’re _wrong_ , Dean! I believe him. And if you were the _real_ Dean, _you’d_ believe him too! He was a good friend of Manolli’s, or thought he was, and the bastard set him up to take the blame when the police busted their money laundering scam! He set him up to spend the rest of his life in _prison!_ That’s why he came to _us!_ ”

“Exactly, Sam! Don’t you _get_ it? Either Manolli thinks he’s in jail... or he knows that he must have made a deal to stay _out_ of it! Either way... _how_ is he getting all the new information? _How_ did he know about what was going to happen only that other night? How did he know that the drugs would be hidden on that bogus mail truck the _last_ time?”

“I...!” But Sam stopped dead from his agitated pacing around and stared at his brother: the stench of his anger suddenly stinking the living room out as his eyes narrowed cruelly. “How did you know about the mail truck?”

It was a loaded question: Dean bit his next words back even as he opened his mouth again. Shit, he _really_ hadn’t meant to say _that!_ “You told me. About how nobody was looking twice as they loaded mail bags onto it at the airport. But when the warehouse was raided, they found the bags to be full of drugs! You _told_ me!”

“I would _never_ discuss the details of my case like that.” Dean was backing up against the wall again at his brother’s approach. “I never _have!_ How...?” And he was staring down at Dean, his brain working furiously until it came to the only conclusion it could. “You’ve been reading my files, haven’t you? _Haven’t_ you?”

“Sam, I...”

“Don’t you lie to me! Don’t you _dare!_ ” And Sam was snatching at the sweatshirt Dean had borrowed from his lookalike, physically wrapping the material around his massive fists in his rage so that Dean couldn’t get away even if he had wanted to. And then he was uncaringly catching his brother’s skin in his grip, causing Dean to wince in pain and try to blink his suddenly watering eyes clear. “ _Tell_ me!”

The older man’s silence only served to increase his fury. And his certainty. “You _bastard!_ ” And Dean was being thrown across the room to hit the opposite wall. _Hard._ And then Sam was on him again, picking him bodily off his feet and holding him up against the wall once again. Slamming him back against it in his temper. “You _tell_ me, now! _Now_ , Dean!”

“Dad? What’s going on?” Samuel was now there, attracted by the banging and angry yelling that could be heard throughout the house. “Put him down, dad! Leave him alone!”

“Daddy?” And Mary-Anne and Johnny were also running down the stairs in a panic, only to freeze in fear at the sight of their furious father. “ _Dean!_ Daddy, put him down! Put him _down!_ ”

“Get to your rooms! _Now!_ How do you know what’s in my _files_ , Dean? _Tell_ me!”

“Dean! _Dean!_ Daddy, _please!_ Don’t _hurt_ him!”

“It’s okay, M-A.” Dean’s throat was sore: hell, his whole _body_ was hurting after Sam throwing him around like that, but nothing mattered now except calming the children. “It’s fine. Your dad’s just upset at me, that’s all. It’s nothing: we’ll sort it out, it will be okay. You just go on upstairs and get ready...”

“But Dean...”

“ _Do as you’re told!_ ” And Sam was yelling at them, causing the little girl to dissolve into tears. _And_ the little boy. Dean’s heart all but broke at the sight.

“It’s alright, _we’re_ alright. Just an argument. I’ve misbehaved: I’m sorry, Sam. But it’s okay, you three: it really is. Just go back upstairs...”

The tears subsided, but none of them moved to leave the room. Samuel stood tense, as if ready to fight his father if he didn’t let go of Dean. Mary-Anne was standing beside him, still sniffling a little. And Johnny had run over and was hugging the human’s legs, one hand and arm wrapped tightly around his thigh even as he dangled from Sam’s grasp. It was just instinctive for Dean to reach down and hold the smaller fingers in his: “It really is okay, we’re done arguing.”

“You sure, Dee? Has dad hurt you?”

“I’m fine, Johnny. Really. Please put me down now, Sam.”

Sam bit his lip, still furious, but did. Dean wobbled slightly as he stood on his own two feet once more but stayed facing his brother, the little boy’s hand still tight in his own. The human took a deep breath: “Yes, I’ve been reading your files, Sam. And I’ll take whatever you feel I should for doing it. But... _please_ listen. It don’t make sense, none of it. You don’t have an ‘informant’: you have somebody working for Manolli feeding you _breadcrumbs!_ You have to _see_ that!”

He didn’t like the silence that radiated ominously from the younger man. Then, with short abruptness: “You three go on out to the car: I’ll be there in a minute.” It was an order issued directly to the children.

There was a simultaneous inhale of breath from the trio: “But...why isn’t?... How’s _Dean_ going to get to the barbeque then? ‘Cos you said you had to go back to work, dad.”

“I’m taking you there, and I’ll ask Sara to bring you home. I’ve got a few things to discuss with Dean before I have to go out. And _he’s_ not going anywhere.” The words were short and clipped. And the last were spoken as if his brother’s very name was leaving a nasty taste in his mouth.

“But...”

“To the _car! Now!_ ” The control had only lasted a minute: Sam’s anger was back to full boil. There was a moment’s hesitation that flowed chillingly around every single person in the room, then Dean was kneeling on one knee to look the two younger ones in the eyes as calmly and carefully as he could.

“It’s okay. Go on. Go and wait in the car for your dad.”

“Are you sure...?”

“Go on.”

This time the three of them moved slowly to obey but only got as far as the door, Samuel now with his arm around his younger brother’s shoulder and gripping Mary-Anne’s hand tightly. “We want Dean to come with us.”

“Dean’s staying here. And _we_ are going to have a talk.” Sam didn’t even bother to look round at his eldest son: his full attention was on the imposter that looked like his mate and broke into his files despite express orders not to. _And_ who dared to argue with him, even about something that he had absolutely no right to know anything about. Dean was going to have to learn where Sam’s limits were. And right now, he was a _long_ way beyond them.

“No, he’s coming _with_ us!” Mary-Anne’s stamped foot and ill-judged time for petulance was the last straw for her father. He erupted back into violence, aiming his temper at the one who seemed to have been the cause of all his problems these last few weeks.

Dean tried to control his own emotions as he was grabbed roughly by his arm and pulled forward so sharply that he stumbled and almost fell: the last thing the children needed was a full-on fight between him and this angry being that looked so much like his brother.

Besides... he needed to get Sam to _listen_ to him. And arguing was getting him nowhere, when everything about this Manolli situation felt wrong. Sam was talking about going out again with this informant, as this time would really be the _one_ , the conclusive proof he was desperate for: and it all just felt so _wrong_. No, the best thing Dean could do was try and convince the children to just go to Annie’s barbeque without him, and then once they were out of harm’s way, concentrate on getting Sam to calm down somehow, whatever it took for him to do so, and listen to reason.

Although that didn’t look like it would be happening any time soon: in fact his brother was getting more irate then ever... “Look at you all!” he was shouting at his children, even while his strong fingers were all but crushing Dean’s arm. “Worried about _this_ thing! He’s not your mother: your _real_ mother’s _missing!_ But you all act as if you’ve forgotten him!”

“Of course we haven’t _forgotten_ mom!” Now Samuel was shouting as well. “I think of him every _minute!_ As we all do! But Dean’s family as _well_ , dad! He really _is!_ ”

“He’s _nothing!_ He’s _nothing_ to us: _any_ of us!”

“He _is!_ ” “He’s _ours!_ ” “I want to be just _like_ him!” “Leave him _alone_ , dad!”

Sam stared at them all incredulously then turned back to Dean, shaking him viciously with every other word. “This is _you!_ What have you _done_ to them? I should never have let you into this house: you’ve turned them _against_ me!”

“Sam, you’re being ridiculous...” Dean’s words were suddenly cut off as his younger brother angrily punched him in the face: the blow being clumsily executed but delivered with an Alpha’s strength, and more than enough to knock Dean down. And then the children were around him, getting in between the two adults, and _screaming_ at their father to stop.

“ _Get in the car!_ ”

“No! We’re not _going! You_ get out!”

“I _mean_ it, Samuel!”

“So do _we_ , dad!” This was Johnny answering him back instead. “You _leave Dean alone!_ ” And Mary-Anne was staring at him angrily even as she was hugging the human as tightly as she could.

Sam finally fell silent and stared incredulously at the three of them with a mixture of shock and anger. “This is _your_ doing!” This was all but hissed at Dean. “You stay here then: _all_ of you! Miss the bloody barbeque if that’s what you want! I’ve got to go and stop Manolli! And I _will_ this time! And then when I come back,” this was spat at his brother, “ _you_ are out of this house, and I don’t _care_ what happens to you! I should _never_ have let you in!”

“Sam, wait...” And Dean hurried back to his feet: he had to try to get through to the younger man even if it meant he got hit again. “Please...think...just... _think!_ Please! You’re trusting this bloke, you’re following him blindly nearly across the _state_ this time! How is he getting this information if he’s not being fed it by someone? Yes, I read your files, but _please!_ It’s not adding up! And if I’m right, and this is Manolli behind it, then what is he really up to? What’s he distracting you _from_...?”

But he was being ignored. Worse than ignored: he was being shoved viciously to one side as Sam barged out of the front door, slamming it behind him with such force that the whole house shook. In the few seconds that it took Dean to open it again and run out behind him, his brother was in the car and reversing it off the driveway, yelling out of the window as he went.

“You _stay_ there! I _mean_ it, Dean! And I _will_ deal with you when I come back! You shouldn’t even _be_ here: you’re not _Dean!_ And I want _you_... _gone_!”

And the older man was left standing on the path watching the car pull away with a loud squeal of tyres, and the definite threat reverberating around his head. Vaguely he looked around, expecting to see the nondescript black car that had been Sam’s permanent tail the last few weeks following on, but was surprised that, for once, it wasn’t there.

With a sigh he turned to see the three youngsters standing by the front door: the eldest looking almost as angry as his father had just done, and the little boy and girl still covered with snotty tears, their expressions still showing their terror. “Dean, your _face!_ ”

He put his hand up to his mouth and felt the rapidly swelling lip and cheek. “Come on, get your shoes. I’ll drop you round at Annie’s, but I better come back here myself in case your dad sees sense.”

“We’re staying with _you_. No argument.” Dean sighed at Samuel, but could see that they were all of the same opinion, and all equally _stubborn._ They definitely must get that from his brother.

“Okay.”

Then he was trying to think at how to ease the tension still in the house as they all returned inside. “How would you all like a barbecue of our own, then? I was going to make Hunter’s Chicken tomorrow with the meat in the fridge, but how would you all fancy kebabs instead? We can skewer some with pieces of peppers, and mushrooms, and those beef tomatoes. And there’s those fresh bread rolls that we bought earlier, or it won’t take long to make some potato salad...”

“Can we have boiled eggs in the potatoes?” The two younger children were brightening. Samuel was also trying to smile, although he still looked like he really wanted to hit something... _anything_.

“Yeah, of course. Do you two troubles fancy making a mixed green salad?”

“Yes!”

“There’s steaks in the freezer, Dean. Can I get one out for myself and Mary-Anne? And you as well, if you’d like one.”

“Nah, I’m good with the chicken. How about you, Johnny?” The boy also shook his head. “But...get one out for your dad, in case. He might have calmed down enough now to turn around.”

“Do _you_ think he’s being tricked, Dean?”

“I’m sure of it, Sammy. He’s so desperate that this bloke will provide his ‘irrefutable proof’, that he’s just following him blindly. I’m sure Manolli’s behind it, and he’s getting your dad out of the way for some reason.”

“Why?”

“No clue. Now pass me a pack of frozen peas to hold against this split lip.”

The next couple of hours passed quickly as the family all worked together in the kitchen to get on with their individual and combined tasks until it was time to light the barbeque, with Samuel following Dean’s lead to tell jokes and silly stories, until between them they got the youngest two laughing and giggling, and the fight all but forgotten. Until Sam came home again, at least.

Then Dean was tilting his head to listen to something. “Is that my cell?”

Samuel also paused: he was busy making some dips while Dean had been chopping some vegetable sticks to eat them with, but had to concede. “Your hearing must be better than mine, and I thought _mine_ was good!”

“Yeah. Where’ve I left it?” Dean put down the sharp knife that he was using and followed the sound upstairs and into the main bedroom. Picking up his cell, he crossed idly over to the window while he answered.

“Dean! Thank Our Lady you’re there!”

“Annie? What’s wrong?”

“These men in suits turned up to our party: said they were FBI and that Sam had sent them to pick you all up as something had happened. When Sara said you weren’t here, they were really annoyed: they got quite _aggressive_ about it. Then they all just _left!_ Is everyone alright, Dean? What’s _happened?_ ”

“Nothing that I know of, Annie...” But he was looking out at the street as he spoke. He saw the two black cars drawing up outside the house at speed, followed by the large imposing car that Manolli had arrived in the last time. And the doors of the first couple were opening, and men were getting out. _Many_ men: his ‘friend in the suit’ being among them. “ _Shit!_ ”

“Dean? What is it?”

But he was already running out of the room even as he was telling her: “Annie! Call the police! Get them here quick! They’re after the _children!_ ”

Then he was disconnecting the call as he hit the top of the stairs. “Sammy! Grab the others and _run!_ Now! _Go!_ ”

“What?” The answering shout wasn’t hurried. Dean didn’t hesitate: he had to get down those stairs. Without even thinking about it, he was leaping straight over the rail and landing lightly on the hall floor below.

“Wow, Dean! That was a jump worthy even of _mom_...!” Samuel had come to the kitchen door to see why the human was shouting. But his awed laughter quickly switched off even as Dean was physically propelling him backwards and towards the back door. “What...?”

“It’s _us!_ They’re outside now for _us!_ ” He was opening the door and pushing the two youngsters roughly through into the garden behind their elder brother. “ _Out!_ Run to Annie’s. I’ll buy you as much time as I can...”

“ _Dean!_ ” Mary-Anne’s scream got his attention at once.

“Shit!” There were two men coming into the yard through the loose fencing panel that Annie had used. And even as the children moved to cling to him, the gate was being kicked open with a shattering crash. “Back inside! _Now!_ ” And he was pulling them through into the kitchen again and bolting the door.

“Okay. Sammy? Take your brother and sister and get upstairs. Barricade yourself into one of the bedrooms. Move the furniture across the door and do _not_ come out. Not for _anything_. Do you understand?”

“But...”

“No time to argue. Just go! _Hurry!_ ”

Even as the young man was grabbing at his terrified siblings, Dean was looking around for something... _anything_ to use as a weapon. Sam had confiscated his gun on that very first day. _And_ his blade. But the nine inch long, chef’s-quality sharp, kitchen knife that he had just been chopping the carrots and red peppers with would do nicely... Quickly he snatched it up and concealed it in the back of his pants.

And he still had his cell in his hand. On an impulse he set the voice recorder going as he headed back through into the hallway, ready to defend the stairs from the intruders as long as he could. But instead, to his alarm, he ran straight into the now three white-faced youngsters who were frozen where they stood: “What are you..? _Crap!_ ”

There were men standing at the top of the stairs: they must have climbed up on the garage roof and then across to the windows to get into the upper storey. Even as he took in the sight of them, they were starting to descend down the carpeted steps. And now the front door was being broken open, and the man in the suit was entering along with two other men. And behind him, he could hear the noise of the panel in the back door splintering...

“This way!” Dean snatched Mary-Anne up physically in his arms and hustled the two boys bodily into the living room, pulling one of the small single comfy chairs with him to try and make a make-shift barrier for them to get behind. “Stay in the corner! Try and move the sideboard and keep behind it. Sammy: look after them no matter what! It’s going to be okay: just hold on and let me handle this. Help’s on its way.” And he was pushing his cell into the young man’s hand.

Samuel looked at the device with a dazed expression until he realised what it was doing. Then he looked up at Dean with wide-eyes, but nodded slightly.

Even as Dean turned to face the men now between them and the door, from the corner of his eye he noticed Samuel sliding the cell phone surreptitiously onto the sideboard amongst all the photo frames. But they both knew the solid wood structure was too heavy for the young man to move on his own, so instead he was putting his arms around the two other children and turning them all as one to try and make his own body as much of a shield as he could.

Dean had never felt more proud of him. Of _all_ of them. They had called him theirs... but they were his as well.

His family.

He looked at the men in the house that just should not be there. And there were so many of them... _too_ many. Besides the man in the suit and the two that had come with him through the front, there were four others that had entered through the now destroyed back door. And two that had appeared from upstairs.

How could he defend his family without at least one of the youngsters getting hurt in the process? The men were all Alphas, and he knew from bitter experience with Sam that they were naturally stronger than him: that seemed to be the way of this world. The only thing he had on his side was the knife, and the element of surprise but...

Dean determined there and then, without any hesitation whatsoever, that he would give whatever it took to keep the children safe, even if it meant letting himself being taken. The risk of one of the youngsters getting hurt because of him trying to fight so many adversaries in this enclosed space was too great. It wasn’t that Sam would never forgive him... _He_ would never forgive himself.

No, even as the Alphas began to surround the corner that they were slowly being trapped in, Dean tried to steady his breathing and force himself to accept that he would probably be doing some pretty disgusting things very soon...and having them done to him... but he would do anything, _take_ anything, rather than risking these three children that mattered so much to him getting hurt.

He would have to wait and hope to take his chance to fight his way out another day. Not now. There was _too_ much risk right now.

But the Alphas were pausing. And stepping back respectfully as someone else walked without invitation into the room. Dean stared at him as he approached: he felt he could never hate anyone as much as he did this man.

“Mr _Manolli_. I’m taking it that this is _your_ men who have broken into my house and are terrorising my children?”

“Hello, Dean.” The man sighed with a slightly sad smile. “This would have been much easier had you been at your friend’s party: I was banking on the fact that you would just have come quietly rather than risking _their_ lives as well. Still: plans change.”

“What do you want?”

“Two things. One is that I want to convince your mate to drop his case against me: having his children as my guests will go a long way towards that.”

Dean couldn’t believe his ears: “You’ve broken into my _house_ , look at the state of the _doors_ : you can’t say that was us inviting you in willingly!”

The man smiled: a cold, calculating smile that barely reached as far as the corners of his eyes. “I told your Sam at our very first meeting that everyone has their price. Or their tipping point. It’s only ever a question of working out which, and how much. Or what.

Most people: it’s simply the price. Cameras can be turned off, even city ones. Lies can be bought. Alibis can be bribed. Workmen will work without question for the right amount. I’m sure that this whole _street_ would deny that I was ever here... if indeed any of them ever saw me to begin with, my men are _very_ thorough.

In the case of your Sam: it’s the tipping point, not the price. The point he would never cross, no matter what. Not even to bring me to his deranged idea of ‘justice’. The love he has for his children... And his _mate_.” Despite himself, Dean felt a shudder travel down his spine.

“And actually, with you, it’s pure instinct, Dean. The most basic, animalistic of them all. You would do absolutely _anything_ for your children to keep them safe. _You_...would do... _anything_.” He was closing on Dean now: his eyes glinting lustfully, although he was tutting slightly at the human’s still swollen lip. “I just wanted to come _myself_ to get you.”

Gently he reached out to stroke the injury, smiling as Dean instinctively jerked his head away. “Was that your Alpha? He won’t ever hurt you again, Dean. Is _that_ why you called the F.A.O.? Because Sam hurts you?”

Dean blinked at him and then realised: “ _You’re_ behind the F.A.O., aren’t you? They _are_ a sham: that’s why the omegas all just disappear! What do you do to them?”

“Oh, Dean. Why would I risk snatching omegas off the street like a common little pimp, when I can have them come to me... my organisation, as it were. All desperate to be saved from their abusive situations. My teams have found a way to make heat drugs that are so addictive now that the omegas are desperate for them after only one fix. It’s almost scary to watch: I seriously very much doubt that any of them would even recognise their own families once they’d taken the stuff. And they’ll do anything: I mean _anything_! Why waste that resource?

Especially when others will pay... a _lot_... for the results!

But _you_ don’t need to worry about being an addict, Dean. I won’t even expect you to go with anyone else: I’m never good at sharing anyway. So... _I’ll_ look after your little pups there nicely. And _you’ll_ look after _me_ nicely. _Won’t_ you?”

By this time, one of his men had circled round to stand behind Dean, reaching to grab both of his arms and hold him still while Manolli stepped even closer, his hand closing around the human’s cheek and jaw to tilt his head slightly ready for a kiss, his body close enough to rest against Dean’s as he began to lean in. Dean tried to force himself not to flinch: if he could just get this bastard and his men out of the house and leave the children unharmed, that was all that mattered.

Beyond him, the man in the suit and another of Manolli’s henchmen began to cross the room towards where Samuel and the other two were cowering. Mary-Anne gave a little scream and her big brother immediately pulled her even closer protectively, his pallor beyond pale as he looked with wide eyes towards Dean in a search for reassurance.

“Let them go. Even for you, terrorising children is a new low. Leave them alone, and I’ll come without a fuss. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Oh, Dean. I know _you_ would.” Manolli’s mouth closed on his, even as Dean resisted the temptation to twist his face away in disgust. He found the taste of this Alpha revolting: even kissing _Sam_ had been preferable to this.

Then the man was pulling back slightly, just enough to rest their foreheads together. “But I have to keep Sam in line as well,” He whispered. “It’s _him_ who’ll need a warning. My man’s keeping him occupied for me perfectly, _and_ as instructed he’s taken his cell, so Sam won’t be able to contact you until he returns tomorrow now... and what a nice surprise he’ll have! I’m _sure_ he’ll see sense, and behave himself. I look forward to him working _for_ me!”

His tone changed slightly as he issued the order even as he closed in on Dean’s lips again: “Get the pups! Careful of the little ones, especially the boy! Rumour is he might be an omega just like his mom! If he’s anywhere near as special...”

“No!” And Dean was trying desperately to pull away: that was the last thing he had hoped to hear. “Leave them alone. You’ve got me. _Willingly_ , just as long as you leave the three of them alone!”

Manolli paused to smile tolerantly at him, his hands holding Dean’s face as firmly as his man was now holding Dean’s arms behind him: “I’m afraid they’re coming with us anyway, Dean. Well, with my men, that is. Not with _us_ : you and I are going somewhere private... but the younger ones are, no matter what. If the big one gives my men trouble...well, then...”

The human felt his blood run cold. “You’re going to kill Samuel?”

“If he doesn’t behave himself. I don’t need a problematic young Alpha on my hands, Dean. But for you, I’ll tell my men to make it quick. That okay, little one?”

Dean stared at him, filled with rising anger at his callousness. And dread. He was prepared to fight to his death for any _one_ of the children, let alone all three. He wouldn’t _want_ to keep living himself if he let this bastard hurt any of them. But the chances of them all coming unscathed out of this smallish room, against such immense odds...

Dean felt that this was a nightmare coming true. But he now had no choice: if help didn’t arrive before Manolli took them... no one would ever see _any_ of them again. He tried to ready himself. Perhaps if he could just keep Manolli talking...

“You’re threatening to kill my son, abduct my two other children, and you’re asking me if that’s _okay?!_ You _bastard!_ Get out of my house before I kill you!”

“Ooh, Dean. Such strong words!” The other was amused. So were his men, even as they started to close in on Samuel, led by the man in the suit who had saved Dean a couple of times. The young man looked over at Dean with fear-filled eyes, pleading with him to do something. _Anything_.

“I mean it! I know you killed those men in that warehouse! I know you’ve killed before! _You_ have! _Personally!_ You’re so sick you probably enjoy it! Not just given orders to your men! You’ve got blood on your hands, I can see it in your eyes! But I’m telling you, you don’t touch my son!”

“The little omega’s got a temper!” Manolli was laughing at him. They were all laughing at him. The man in the suit was laughing at him, even as he was nearly on Samuel. Even as he began to reach out to grab at the boy’s arm. Even as Samuel was flinching and trying to pull away...

“You bet your sweet ass I’ve got a temper! Last warning: get out of my house and leave my children alone.”

The mood of the mob boss changed in an instant: his fingers tightened their grip as he still held Dean’s face and his eyes stared malevolently into the human’s. “Yes, I enjoy killing, Dean. I’ve killed a lot of people: those who get in my way, and those who annoy me. And I like _hurting_ people: I like to beat them into submission, I like hearing them _scream_.

I’m going to beat _you_ into submission. I’m going to _break_ you. Make you wish you didn’t talk to me like that! And I’m going to _kill_ your son! _And_ your mate! You are going to learn how to respect me, you... _stupid_... little omega.”

Dean drew himself up straight. He stared into the bastard’s eyes. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you... _And_ your asshole in the suit over there!”

“And what’s that, Dean?”

Even _he_ looked a little surprised at the snarl on the other’s face and the anger in Dean’s eyes as he answered: “I. Am... _Nobody’s_... Fucking... Little... _Omega!_ ”

Even as he was speaking, Dean was suddenly on the move. The Alpha standing behind him and holding his arms tightly, was surprised to suddenly find himself being used as an unwilling support as Dean pushed back on him with all his weight and, bending his legs to draw them up to his chest, kicked out with all his strength. Manolli went flying backwards as the bases of both of Dean’s boots connected with him. Then both Dean and the man behind him were falling to the floor.

The Alpha recovered quickly and jumped to his feet. Too late. Dean was already up with the blade that he had concealed in his hand: the man started with shock as the sharp edge sliced across his neck, slitting his throat cleanly down to the bone.

Dean didn’t stand around to get sprayed by the dying man’s blood: he was leaping across the room to protect Samuel immediately. The man in the suit swore and turned to face him, in time to, unfortunately for him, meet the knife with his chest instead. He was falling even as Dean pulled it out of his heart and plunged into his accomplice’s as well.

“Dean!”

“Don’t let them see this!”

And Samuel was holding his little brother and sister even tighter to him: his own face white with shock at seeing such violent death happening right in front of his face.

“Shit!” Now the remaining Alphas were recovering from their shock that the supposedly timid and helpless omega was fighting back. And fighting back _viciously!_ They hastened to find their own weapons.

“Don’t shoot him!” Manolli was also getting to his feet with a rattled gasp of broken-ribbed pain. “I’ll make him pay for this _myself_. Just get the two youngest pups: I want them alive! Kill the oldest! _Move!_ ”

And he was stepping back from the room as the guns were put back in their holsters, but not before Dean had taken note of which of them were carrying them. Although that wouldn’t help much if he couldn’t get to them... Then, to add to his increased anxiety, two of them were producing their own blades. Time to reduce the odds, and as fast as he could.

Even as the Alphas were moving to try and grab him and the children, Dean was moving to meet them first. He ducked under the first swing of a knife, hearing the whistle of the sharp steel as it flashed over his head, and drove his own weapon into his foe as hard as he could in a vicious upwards thrust; the blade unfortunately catching in a rib and getting deflected to the side of the man’s body. The Alpha swore, dropped his weapon and clumsily raked at Dean’s hand and the knife with his fingers, trying to dislodge both.

But Dean managed to hold on and get the blade out, feeling the fresh blood from the other already trickling down his arm as the man backed away, holding his hand to the gaping but non lethal wound in his chest desperately. But behind him were two others to immediately take his place.

One of them grabbed for Dean’s right arm that he was holding the knife in. The other grabbed for Dean, full stop. The human managed to avoid _his_ large hands, but felt his arm being caught in a vice like grip and twisted backwards painfully. The rest of him was still free though, and he used it: felling the other Alpha with a solidly landed head butt to the forehead before he could try to snatch at Dean again.

But then his arm was being pulled back so hard by the first Alpha as to force Dean off balance, and his hand was being smashed down against the carved wooden back of the couch, not just once but a few times. He felt something snap somewhere in his lower arm or wrist: the pain made him fumble the blade momentarily, but then he was pushing it down in his mind, automatically forcing it away mentally. No time to worry about broken limbs: there were three children’s lives at stake here.

The Alpha had been bent over him, laughing as he had heard the sharp cracking of bone. His grin was wiped immediately as Dean caught him with a furious upper cut from his left fist that landed solidly beneath the man’s jaw and kept on going. For good measure, Dean chopped the side of his hand hard into the side of his neck as he went down, rendering the man unconscious before he hit the ground.

He hadn’t seen where his knife had fallen to as he had dropped it, so all he could do was turn unarmed to face who was left. The anger in the remaining Alphas’ faces was evident, and now, _finally,_ they were taking him seriously. With a glance and a nod between each other, they were dividing up to come at him, and the three youngsters, from separate directions at once.

Dean backed up, just enough to reach behind him without looking and grasp Samuel’s shoulder momentarily with his left hand to give the young man reassurance. Then he was stepping forward and bracing himself in readiness as the Alphas suddenly moved to close him down.

The one rushed in from his right side first, with the sensible seeming intention of going for his broken arm as that would be Dean’s obvious weak point now. But the human was already moving to meet him. With the skill of his entire life’s training, he had the other man turned around before the Alpha had realised, with his arms folded across his neck. Dean braced himself, bit his inside of his mouth bloody to ignore the pain in his right one as he tightened them sharply and suddenly against each other, and with a loud snap, the man’s neck broke.

Dean was ready to catch the dead man’s weight and shoved him as hard as he could in the direction of one of the other Alphas, who went down beneath the body with a shout. Then Dean was on the other one, rushing him before the man could jab at him with the short but lethal knife he had produced from somewhere. The human easily avoided the wild swings of the now slightly panicked man, and, as soon as he was close enough, used his left elbow to strike with devastating effect against the exposed side of head and neck.

Twice.

The Alpha went down and didn’t get up. Neither did the one that had been knocked to the ground by the dead body being all but hurled in his direction. Dean’s boot connected violently with his jaw, and it was game over.

Dean caught his breath as the room suddenly fell silent apart from the occasional moan from the fallen Alphas. But even the couple of more conscious ones didn’t try to get up from the floor, now not only stunned, but also wary of the heavy boots that would be used to keep them down by the determined and under-estimated omega. In fact, the only real sounds were the muffled sobs of the little boy and girl, who were probably close to being in shock.

The realisation of what he had caused them to witness drew Dean’s attention immediately, and he hurried to console them. “It’s _okay_ , it’s okay. Johnny? M-A? I’m so _sorry!_ Samuel, come on, let’s try and get them out of here... ”

“ _Dean!_ ” The three warnings were screamed with such perfect synchronicity that it would have been impressive in just about any other circumstance.

Dean turned hastily, trying to control the twisted feeling in his gut at the sound of complete terror in Samuel’s and the children’s voices. Only to come face to face with Manolli himself, who had been creeping up on him from behind. With the dropped, inches long, kitchen knife now held menacingly in his hand.

And he was suddenly approaching Dean in a frightening silvered blur of speed. “You stupid piece of omega shit!”

The strike that was being aimed upwards via the delivery of a really vicious under-handed thrust, and which would have certainly succeeded in severing Dean’s spine instantly if he had still had his back turned, met the front of the human’s body instead with lethal force. Dean felt the point of the knife strike the left side of his lower abdomen, just to the inside of his hip bone. And the sharp point continued up through his clothes, and his skin. And through to his insides, without stopping, followed by the rest of the deadly blade.

Dean had been stabbed before, but he knew this was bad. It hurt so much that it took his whole breath away for a moment. It felt as if he was on fire inside. And the pain took his voice: he could only gasp in pain. But there was screaming. And the sound seemed to come from somewhere else: not from him.

And then he realised: it _wasn’t_ him. It was Mary-Anne screaming and screaming. _And_ Johnny. Screaming in terror. And at the sound of those children screaming from fear in their own home, Dean felt himself get angrier than he had ever done in his whole life.

The force from Manolli’s strike had taken both him and Dean across the last few steps of the room to collide hard with the sideboard, rocking the solid structure back against the wall and causing everything on it to tumble off in a crescendo of smashes and crashes. In fact, from the corner of his eye, Dean could only see one thing still standing upright and prominent on the smooth surface: something large, and cold-grey. Desperately he reached out and grabbed at whatever it was with his left hand and used it to hit the Alpha with as hard as he could.

There was a shattering of glass from somewhere, with small sharp slivers spraying Dean in the face, even flicking into his eyes, but none of it mattered because Manolli had lost his grip on the knife and was staggering back with the force of the blow. Dean took the chance to press forward his advantage while he had it.

With all his energy, all his strength, all the anger from hearing his family’s sobs, he hit again and again with the heavy, cold object, watching with satisfaction as the man who had caused all this fell to his knees trying desperately but ineffectually to cover his head against the onslaught, before finally collapsing onto his face where he lay motionless in an increasing pool of blood.

For a fleeting moment Dean wanted to keep hitting him until he could _never_ get up again, but the need to protect and comfort the two wailing and whimpering youngsters was more important than killing such a piece of shit as this Alpha.

It was only as he started to try and turn to get to the children again that Dean felt himself go forward onto his knees. He couldn’t seem to stand up. Why couldn’t he stand up? And his vision was getting blurry. For the first time, he looked down to see the knife embedded deeply in his lower abdomen and side, the long blade completely hidden.

And now he realised what he had picked up to strike Manolli with: it was the picture of the other Dean with their dad in the heavy stone frame. For once, the damned thing had stayed upright! The photo was now covered in blood, and worse, and probably completely destroyed as there was nothing left of the protecting glass over it. The stone itself was cracked straight through. But somehow Dean didn’t think that either of the subjects in the picture would mind.

And then he was losing his grip on the frame, watching it fall to the vivid red-sodden floor as if in slow motion.

The children. He had to get to the children.

But somehow they were already beside _him_.

Mary-Anne was catching at his hand and stifling her sobbed shriek as she saw his stomach, and he could hear Johnny’s voice feebly saying “No, don’t touch it: we’ve got to get him to hospital without moving it!”

And then Dean felt Samuel’s arms and scent come round him like a gentle cushion even as he began to fall backwards from his kneeling position. “Sammy? Get them out of here. You’ve got to look after them, get them to safety.” His own voice sounded slow even to him, as if he was drawling.

“We’re getting to safety, Dean. _All_ of us. You just hold on, do you hear me? I _need_ you to hold on. Oh my Lady! _Johnny!_ Get the collar out of dad’s study!”

There was a sharp and hissed intake of breath: “You’re going to _collar_ him, Sam? But mom _never_ wears his collar: he _hates_ it!”

“We’ve got to cover Dean’s neck. We’ve got to _hide_ it! Hurry, Johnny! I can hear them coming!”

He was right, Dean thought: he could hear sirens wailing outside as well. Lots of sirens.

“Glad I got to fight again, Sammy. I missed it: only thing ever been good....at....” Dean suddenly felt so tired, he wasn’t even sure he had managed to finish his words. It was just too much effort to keep his eyes open.

And there was something being tightened gently around his neck, which he didn’t like but Samuel was whispering at him to stay still, and something about it ‘being dad’s size anyway.’

And then there were a lot of shouts from outside. And a few gunshots.

And then lots of noise from a lot of people _inside_ the house.

And calls for an ambulance _immediately_.

And then entreatments for the children to get out of the way and let the paramedics see. And Samuel was telling them that he wasn’t _going_ to because Dean wasn’t going _anywhere_ without him! _Or_ Mary-Anne, as she loudly informed them as well, because this was her _mommy_ , and she wasn’t letting her mommy out of her sight in case bad men tried to take him again.

And he could feel Johnny’s hand in his holding him in a death grip. Or was that him holding _Johnny’s?_

And then the paramedics were telling them to stay there then but just let them see, and the stupid sweater that he so hated wearing was being cut away from him, as was the shirt beneath so they could see exactly where the blade was, and there was a sudden stunned silence in the room.

Or had he just finally lost consciousness...


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments: I'm almost nervous about putting the rest of this story up in case all of you don't like it!

Dean slowly, slowly, _slowly_ became aware of voices around him once more, although he didn’t seem to be able to open his eyes. And there was something going on against his abdomen: he was _aware_ of it but he couldn’t _feel_ it. As if his skin was numb for some reason. And his brain seemed to be foggy. But he could hear them talking, whoever they were. What were they saying? What were they _doing_ even?

“Thank Our Lady he’s so strong! And that he was trying to pull away as the knife went in, _and_ that it was done with an upward strike: it’s nicked his kidney but at least it’s a clean cut, and it’s only gone an inch or so into it. A couple of stitches and it should heal itself given time. We’ll just need to keep checking his urine to make sure there’s no blood, but... The main thing is to sort out this mess it’s made of his intestines: it’s shredded them to pieces as it sliced through! That bastard: to try and take him from his own house...to threaten his _children!_ ”

“It’s disgraceful: someone needs to do something! Omegas aren’t even safe in their own _homes_ anymore! Clamps.”

“He is beautiful though: no wonder they were after him. And his scent is incredible!”

“Ashton, if you can’t conduct yourself professionally, then you’re welcome to leave. I need suction there please. No, more to the right.”

“No, I’m just saying... my little sister’s got his image as her screenshot. When he stood up to his Alpha at the school. She’s been worried about presenting as an omega, but now she says if she does then she’s going to be like _him!_ But no wonder he caught someone’s attention, doing that!”

“Is this _that_ omega? I hadn’t realised....” there was a slight rustling noise closer to Dean’s ear: it made him want to try and move away but he couldn’t seem to get any of his limbs to obey him: he must be dreaming, he _hoped_ he was dreaming but it was such a _strange_ dream... “By the Moon, it _is!_ My son and his friends have all been talking about him. They’re organising a protest rally at College, to fight for omega’s rights! And after this... well, I think I’ll be marching with them.”

“More suction, I can’t see....yes, it’s been cut straight through. That young man did amazingly well, keeping both him and the knife still. As long as the blade has remained intact, we should just be able to stitch back what has been torn as we remove it, though it will take some considerable work... At least the scans didn’t show any abnormal bleeds... Care-ful-ly... that’s a perfect view on the screen. Suction there please. Okay, really, really small sutures, as small as you can manage. Little by little: that’s good.”

“He’s moving his head: is he trying to _speak?_ ”

“He should be _well_ under! Ray?”

“He seems to be resisting the anesthesia. It’s very unusual, this should be _ample_ for an omega: he must have an incredibly high tolerance. I’ll work out a new dosage, give me a moment.”

“Could he be aware of us?”

“Probably he’s having a nightmare: this must have been very traumatic. And not only for _him_ : are those poor little pups still camped outside the door?”

“Yes, they won’t move, not any of them. The nurses have tried everything besides physically manhandling them, but the younger ones are adamant they’re staying put and _no one’s_ daring to argue with their brother! They’re all terrified someone’s going to try again to take him. The police are still trying to get in contact with the dad: he’s gone off somewhere for his job.”

“The bastard that did this has got a lot to answer for....when’s that protest rally, Mike? Count me in as well.”

“Okay. This should be enough to take him back under....”

Dean blinked, and _finally_ managed to get his eyes open. Although they felt so heavy, like he’d been asleep for years.

He felt like shit. Really, really shit.

There was that smell: the smell that he hated so much. The stench of cleanliness; disinfectant; _sick_ people. The aroma that meant he was in _hospital_.

And for some reason the smell seemed almost physical, overloading all his senses not just his nostrils. Dean swallowed down bile. Or tried to, but his mouth and throat were so dry. _He_ was so dry: he needed water.

Or a really, _really_ big shot of whisky... but he supposed he’d settle for water.

Sleepily he tried to look around the room he was in: it was a private one, with just the bed he was laying on and lots of bleeping machines that he didn’t understand, but which told him that his heart was still beating at least....

His nose hurt.

Well, _all_ of him hurt. But his nose seemed the most important at that moment. He moved to touch it and see why it was so sore. But he couldn’t move his hand. Not either of them.

Dean tried to turn his head down to see why. His right hand, sticking out as it was from a bright pink cast that encased him from his forearm to the wrist, was being held tightly by Johnny, who was sound asleep on a chair beside his bed, his head slumped uncomfortably onto the mattress by Dean’s chest. And his left was being identically held by Mary-Anne, who was equally asleep, but cuddled onto her big brother’s lap as he sat in the opposite chair to the little boy. Quizzically Dean raised his head enough to look at the young man.

He was greeted with a tired, anxious but thankful smile: “Welcome back.” And Samuel somehow managed to lean forward enough to stroke Dean’s cheek with his long, gentle fingers: “You just sleep. We’re not going anywhere. Not without you.”

The man had to admit that the whispered voice was soothing. As was the boy’s touch: he could feel his eyes closing even as Samuel was adjusting his own uncomfortable position, carefully placing the sleeping little girl on to the chair instead and moving himself to kneel by the edge of the bed where he could reach to stroke and pet Dean’s sweaty and still blood-stained hair more easily. Dean gratefully succumbed to sleep once more, dreaming of ghost lips wisping over his forehead.

He felt better the next time he awoke. He was surprised by how bright the room was this time: it hurt his eyes. And his nose still hurt, but at least his time he could move his right hand to try and touch it, and...oh.

He had a nasal cannula in his nose. He hated those. Why did he have one of those?

“Don’t you dare move it!” Mary-Anne was loud in his ear: he started in surprise and heard one of the machines give a definite ‘blip’. “ _Any_ of it! You need it _all!_ Oh Dee, I’ve been so _worried!_ ”

And she was burying herself in his neck, crying once again while he tried to get his hand up enough to comfort her. And Johnny was slipping onto the bed the other side to lie beside him, also desperate to be close to him, but careful not to knock any of Dean’s torso which had bandages wrapped tightly around. And beyond them, the man could see Samuel smiling tiredly at him and knew without having to ask that the young man hadn’t dared to let himself sleep for a moment since the attack on the house.

And at the back of the small room this time, sitting on a chair, his face pale to the point of grey and his eyes blood shot with stress, was Sam. He looked nervous as Dean’s gaze fell on him but stood up and approached the bed tentatively. “I’m _so_ sorry. You were right. About everything. I can’t believe what he tried to do. If you hadn’t stopped him...”

“You weren’t to know. Nothing to apologise for. Did we get him?” Dean tried to say but his throat was too dry. Samuel fetched a sponge mouth swab, moistened it and used it to give the man some much needed water. He tried to speak again, still croaking but Sam got the gist.

“Your cell recorded it all. Every threat; every admission. Every single one of their screams. And the guests at Annie’s barbeque have identified his men as being the ones who came to try and take the children. And their fingerprints, plus the damage all over the house? It’s conclusive proof. He’s going to go away for a long time. You got him.”

“ _We_ got him.” And Dean was thinking that he should try and get up, but his stomach area hurt like hell, and the children were by this time snuggled comfortably against him, so perhaps he would just lie there a little longer. And just close his eyes once more, just for a while....

The next time he awoke, he felt more like himself. And hungry. And really incredibly thirsty.

And ready to get the hell out of there.

The attending physician was in the room with him, along with two residents, silently examining the results of the surgery. He smiled a genuine smile at Dean as he competently bandaged him up: “It’s all looking good. We had to make a small incision next to the original stab wound to be able to get the camera in. It gave us a clear view of what was going on as we released the knife, but it looks like it’s all worked. No sign of any infection at the moment anyway, though you are to be very careful once you leave, and at the first sign of _anything_ , you come straight back! Infection’s your enemy right now. And we set your broken wrist: again that’s going to take time to heal. As will the rest of your injuries, but you seem to be in excellent condition, Dean. I think he’d appreciate some water, nurse. Any questions?”

Dean was more interested in quenching his thirst, content to allow Sam, who was standing behind the medics, to ask anything that was needed. He drank gratefully, with Johnny helping him to hold the lidded beaker steady until he started to actually be able to feel his tongue move like it should again rather than a dry piece of cardboard in his mouth.

He was surprised when the physician patiently waited for him to finally be able to speak. “Have _you_ any questions, Dean?”

“I take it this was Mary-Anne’s idea: to give me a pink cast?”

“Aww, Dee! I thought you’d like it. It’s cute!”

“I know, M-A, but... pink? _Really?_ ” He was smiling even as she reached to hug him yet again: the tightness of her protective arms around him giving away the intensity of the little girl’s emotions.

“When can I go home?”

The physician gave him a big smile: “Soon. But it’s going to mean daily check-ups, make sure that wound’s healing as it should... antibiotics taken regularly and on schedule... and lots of rest.”

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam: “I could go and stay at Uncle Bobby’s while I heal.... take the kids. Any problem with that, doc?”

“Well, I’d prefer to see you personally, but I suppose we can make arrangements at the nearest hospital. Just tell me which one... I’ll come back later. Dean. Mr Winchester.” And with one last smile he and the residents were leaving the room.

Dean wasn’t allowed to leave the hospital until the next day. He was amazed to discover that he had been just about unconscious for nearly two whole days, with Samuel at his side the whole time, and the two younger ones for most of it.

Sam had raced there as soon as he had been told, and was beside himself with worry. And guilt. And more than a little upset that Mary-Anne and Johnny were all but ignoring him: they weren’t going to forgive him for punching Dean for a long time. He had just about had to physically remove them from Dean’s room to go and get some rest themselves, and even then they had only gone because their big brother had joined in the insistence that they at least get a decent meal, with the promise that he would tell them immediately if Dean woke again in their absence.

But at least now Dean was awake, and he and Sam were talking as if nothing had happened between them. It was a huge relief for the children, but neither of them felt safe away from their surrogate mom: they were all too aware of what _might_ have happened and they were both having nightmares every time they tried to close their eyes. Now Sam could worry about _them_ , and he _was_ worried. How would they handle returning to the house now that the forensic teams had finished with it?

How would _he?_

Finally though, he was given permission to take Dean home, provided his ‘mate’ didn’t exert himself in the slightest and _rested_. It was a weary but happy family that wheeled him in a chair to the front entrance of the hospital.

But they weren’t expecting what was waiting for them outside.

There was a sudden explosion of flash bulbs going off in their direction, and television cameras turned in as perfect unison as an army of robots, and a rush of reporters ran to greet them. “ _There’s_ the omega!” “Look _this_ way, omega!” “You must be amazed and very proud, Sam, that he defended your children like that?” “The whole world wants to know if it’s true, that an omega fought off four Alphas?” “Can you say a few words, Dean?”

“What the... What by the Moon do you think you are _doing?_ ” Sam’s fear and frustration finally erupted. “Let us through! How _dare_ you?!” He was snatching at the two children’s shoulders, trying to pull them physically to be protected behind him.

“Just a few words, Sam!” “How are you, Dean? Is it true that you were stabbed?” “What are you feeling about being attacked in your own home?” “A lot of people have been following this story, Dean: you’ve been an inspiration to omegas everywhere. Is there anything you’d like to say to them?”

“Get back inside...”And Sam was starting to turn the wheelchair around in his anger to get back into the safety of the hospital.

But Johnny was catching at Dean’s hand. “Tell them, mom. _Tell_ them what it’s like to be an omega.”

And Dean looked around at the little boy’s anxious, pleading face.

He had never been in a situation like this one. Oh, he was good at thinking on his feet and acting tough and self-assured, even when underneath the act he was terrified. But Dean had spent his whole life moving on: he seldom had to worry about far-reaching consequences... just as long as he kept his head down and one step ahead of the Feds!

But _this?_ To be in front of cameras and reporters and... the entire world as _himself?_ Worse: to be in front of them as his counterpart of this _world’s_ self? He couldn’t do it.

But... as Johnny nervously bit his lip and smiled a tearful smile at him, Dean knew he had to. Because _somebody_ had to. And there might never be another chance like this, so he _had_ to... for Johnny. And for the other Dean.

Because they deserved _much_ better than this.

“Sam? Can you help me get out of this chair, please?”

“What by Our Lady do you think you are _doing?_ Sit down this _minute!_ ” His brother couldn’t believe what the stupid human was _thinking_ : he had had a major operation only three days before! But as Dean glanced round at him and gave a little nod, he fell silent. Angry and concerned, with his scent spiking with stress: but he fell silent.

As did the posse in front of them as Dean carefully stepped forward from the chair, still holding the little boy’s hand. He could feel himself physically shaking, from exhaustion as well as nerves at being so public, but he _had_ to speak.

Then he felt Sam holding his other hand as well.

He swallowed nervously and faced the reporters: “My name is Dean, and I’m an omega. That’s only a word, because where it matters we’re just like the rest of you. We have feelings; we have worries; we have ambitions; we have dreams... we have hopes! We have hopes for our future: we have hopes for our children’s futures.

But ... I haven’t thought about any of those for a while, because all I’m aware of now is that I’m always _afraid_.

I wasn’t always so, but now I’m afraid to walk down the streets, I’m afraid to go to places I don’t know, I’m afraid to enter _restrooms_ on my own! I’m afraid of strangers. I’m afraid of people I _know!_

Because of all of _you!_

You think it’s okay to touch us, as if it’s your right to, even when we make it clear that we don’t want to be. You think it’s okay to make lewd and suggestive comments to us even when we’re with our _children_. You seem to think it’s okay to offer to _buy_ us from our Alphas.”

He looked round at the sea of reporters surrounding him: the occasional flashbulb still going off but the majority now listening and recording his words.

“Can you imagine how that _feels?_ To have someone walk up and want to _buy_ you? As if you’re a _nothing?_ A plaything? A _sex_ object? Or just... _take_ us to fulfil your own desires.

You _all_ make me afraid to live _my_ life. Every single one of you.

But today...yesterday, I’m not even sure when it was, but... well... I was made to be afraid in my own home.

My _children_ were made to be afraid in their own home. Because _one_ of you thought it was your right to... just...” Dean felt tears prickle in his eyes as finally the emotion of what had happened, what he may have lost, hit him.

“I was terrified I, or my children, were going to be raped, or forcibly abducted, to be drugged and used as a _nothing_... by many other people, Alphas and betas. Paying for the pleasure of having an omega sexually. And you all tut-tut,” he told them, “but you’d _pay_.

 _You’d_ do it, and you would all think that it would be okay. Because I’m an omega and what do omegas matter?

But we _do_ matter.

And I’m saying to you all, _asking_ you all to think about what is happening.

Because if this goes on: treating us like this, then soon there aren’t going to _be_ any more omegas. Not around in public, not being allowed to have _lives_. None for your children to mate with, none to give you strong pups for the future. The only omegas that there might be will be hidden away from birth, never allowed out beneath the moon.

You’re _exterminating_ us. And possibly yourselves as well.

So you have to decide if you want omegas around, _before_ you wipe us off the face of the earth. Because you _will_ , if you keep turning a blind eye to the harassment, violence and abuse... and _fear_ , that you’re forcing on us. And stop accepting it as normal, because forcing people to live in fear _isn’t_ normal.

Or fair.

Would any of _you_ like to live like that?

It’s up to all to you to decide whether you want to live in a world without omegas, _before_ it’s too late.”

There was a murmur through the crowd, and thoughtful nods from even the seasoned reporters there. Dean had talked himself out, and glanced nervously sideways at Sam. He was surprised at how proud his brother looked: he had never seen him look like that at him. Their hands tightened. But then the reporters were clamouring again.

“Dean? You’ve got everyone’s attention: what are you going to do now? Are you going to take on the fight for omega rights? Be the face of the revolution?”

Dean glanced once more at Sam: “Right now, I just want to go home.” The crowd of reporters laughed and applauded. “And I’m not very good at talking, not when it matters. And this _does_ matter, it really _does_.” Then, to the other’s surprise, he was suddenly pushing his brother forward. “But _Sam_ is. _He’ll_ speak for us. And I’ll be beside him all the way!”

“Sam! What’s the first thing you’re going to do? Public opinion seems to be fully behind you after this horrific assault: how are you going to use it to make lives better for omegas? Do you think it’s time for much stronger legislation to protect them? And how would you go about proposing that... ”

The attention all turned to the younger man. Which was a relief for Dean, as he was feeling that he really had to sit down again before he fell. Carefully he reached behind him to try and find the armrest of the wheelchair, and was grateful to feel Samuel’s arm slip around his waist to first steady him, then to guide him safely back onto the seat.

“We’ll take him home, dad.”

And Sam was biting his lip and nodding, and watching as his children set off with Dean: Samuel pushing the chair and the two younger ones holding tight to the both of them, through the sea of reporters, who parted to allow them past with smiles, and nods, and light reassuring touches on the shoulders.

And respect.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow: I said don’t hate me, but enough of you left me in no doubt that you did! I have tried to rewrite the ending: hopefully any new readers won’t feel the same ire as the previous ones did. Here’s hoping, anyway.

Sam stood in the doorway of his bedroom and felt tears trickle down his cheeks. His emotions had been torn every which way over the last few days, and especially that afternoon when he had been so torn between the desperate desire of finally getting himself and his family home safely, or staying to face the reporters and build on the incredible chance of changing society’s attitudes towards omegas that Dean had somehow managed to start.

In the end, logic had won out. But he had been unprepared for the actual amount of real _interest_ in the topic! The moment he had finished with the reporters his cell had started ringing non-stop. First was his boss, who could see the advantages of being involved with what might well be a legal goldmine. Then reporters asking for private interviews and photo shoots for their respective outlets, and chat show producers asking for public interviews: _all_ to include Dean of course. And support groups for omegas… and political organisations, all keen to be seen to be getting involved in something so high-profiled and with such a definitely _strong_ public opinion behind it.

Night had fallen by the time he was finally able to get home, and he had felt a moment’s blind panic when he had drawn his car up outside his darkened house. Why were there no lights on? But he was reassured slightly by the policeman still guarding the exterior who nodded at him: “They ordered pizzas, and your young man brought me out a couple of slices. And a mug of coffee.”

He had entered his house… _his_ house… and stopped in shock. The police had played him the recording that Dean had been clever enough to do: he had heard the threats and the noise of numerous grunts and landed blows. He had heard the terrified screams of his children, but now…

Sam followed the trail of violence through his house in disbelief as it all suddenly became _real_.

The two exterior doors had been patched up enough to be locked securely against the night, but still showed the extreme violence that had been used to break them down, and the stench of abandoned and now rotting food filled the kitchen and filtered through to the rest of the house.

And there was the _stink_ of Alphas all through the house. Alphas who just should not have _been_ there.

And just about everything in the living room was destroyed or smashed: furniture _and_ possessions.

And there were outlines on the floor where the bodies had fallen.

And dried blood everywhere. So much blood.

 _Too_ much blood.

And the house was so quiet.

He had raced up the stairs feeling his heart pounding inside him: where were they all? Where were his children?

Where was his _mate?_

And now he was standing in the doorway of his bedroom, just letting the tears finally trickle down his cheeks. For they were all in _here_ : _all_ of them.

They had obviously simply ignored the state of the downstairs and had taken refuge upstairs with the pizza.

And here they all were, all cuddled together in the bed: all squashed in a tangled lump of bodies and limbs beneath the covers. Dean, the children, Samuel. All sound asleep in each other’s arms… and _safe_.

Sam stood, watched his family… and cried as his emotions finally overcame him. He had come so close to losing them _all_. If it hadn’t been for Dean…

He finally managed to get himself under control: they all looked so peaceful beneath the covers of his bedding. He should just let them sleep…

But… the need to hold the man in his arms, to know _he_ was safe, won through.

Gently he eased Johnny out from amongst the others, picked him up in his arms, and carried him to his own bed before returning for Mary-Anne. In moving her, he disturbed Samuel and the young man woke enough to blink sleepily at him from his position alongside Dean on the bed. “Dad?”

“Shush: you’ll wake him. Did he take his antibiotics alright? It’s important we don’t let him pick up any infection at all.”

“Yeah, he took them right on schedule. Dad?”

“Yeah, Samuel?” Sam paused with his daughter in his arms.

“We _do_ miss mom: _all_ of us do. We want him back home with us. But… _this_ Dean’s family as well, dad. He’s ours and we love him… _I_ love him, dad.”

“I know you do, son.” He took the little girl through into her room and returned to find the young man had got out from the bed, and was carefully tucking the covers around the sleeping human. Sam watched him momentarily and frowned: “Where’s his shirt? Why isn’t he wearing one?”

He wondered at the glance his son gave him, then Samuel just as carefully un-tucked Dean from the bedding to reveal his bare left arm. Sam stepped closer incredulously: “What _is_ that? It looks like a hand-print! Branded into his arm!”

“We saw it when the paramedics cut his clothes off to get to the knife. _Everyone_ saw it. And he’s covered in scars: _covered_ in them! Claw marks, previous knife wounds, bullet holes: you name it. Probably everyone else thinks that _you’ve_ done it to him, dad!

Anyway, we’ve all been desperate to ask him about it. Well… M-A asked him. She kept on a bit…well, a lot! He finally gave up and took his shirt off to show us, but he wouldn’t tell us much about how he’s got so marked up.” He paused for a moment: “He did really good today, dad. We’ve been watching him on all the news. _And_ you. And it’s all over the internet: the whole _world_ knows! Things are going to _change_ , dad!”

Sam nodded, his mind still on the mark on Dean’s arm: how had he never noticed it before? But then, he couldn’t remember Dean ever taking his shirt off before. In fact, he had been grimly determined since he had arrived, to keep as many clothes on as possible around Sam! He tried to shake off his thoughts: “We’ve got to make sure they _do_ change, Samuel. While we’ve got the chance to! Time for bed now, though: fresh start tomorrow. There’s a lot of clearing up to do downstairs for a start. Good night: sleep safe.”

“Night dad.”

It was a relief for Sam to finally be able to undress and slide into the bed beside his mate… the near-as-damn-it copy of his mate. Carefully he slipped his arms around Dean, making sure not to pull against his bandaged wounds, and shifted his own body as close as he could get behind him, spooning the human’s smaller body into the curve of his own as he held him close.

Closing his eyes, he breathed in the man’s perfect scent and finally, for the first time in a couple of days, felt himself relax. Dean was safe: he had been so brave in protecting the children, and had nearly paid for it with his life, but now… he was safe and where he belonged. In Sam’s arms.

And his scent was so _strong_ now. Or Sam had just gotten so used to it. But it filled his nostrils and his mind, filling _him_ with peace as he breathed it in. Sam wriggled even closer to the sleeping man until he could bury his face against Dean’s neck, drawing him in with every breath, and feeling his taste against his lips. He lay like that for a long while, just savouring the emotions of having the human beside him again.

Then he couldn’t help but wonder about that strange mark on Dean’s once again exposed left arm as he shifted against Sam’s embrace. It looked like it must have been so painful: what by Our Lady could have caused something like _that?_

And Samuel had said something about other marks? Sam roused himself enough to be able to draw back the covers so he could examine Dean’s naked torso, without any need at all to turn on the main light as his eyesight was just as good in the dark as it was in the daylight: that was one of the advantages of being an Alpha! He stared at all the scars that littered the man’s body: what sort of life did Dean lead? What sort of life was it _anyway_ , that involved him getting as hurt as he obviously _did?_

If he stayed _here_ with Sam and the children, he could be safe. If there was just some way that he could…

Sam gently turned the human onto his back, and lightly used his fingers to trace the marks of the wounds, following where one ran into another, mapping the still stunningly beautiful body in his mind. But soon just touching wasn’t enough: he wanted to soothe his injured mate and to help ease any still painful injuries. It seemed natural to Sam for him to lower his mouth to Dean’s body and start to kiss and lick at the scars, starting from the black leather strap still around his neck and working down, running his tongue along the lines where blades, claws, and worse, had cut into the skin and left their marks.

Each individual rib received his full attention as he worked his way down the man’s body, as did each of the man’s rapidly hardening nipples. Moving lower, Sam rimmed at Dean’s belly button as it winked at him from beneath the edge of the tight bandages.

What lay at the _lower_ edge of them?

Sam couldn’t help himself: Dean was still wearing the loose-fitting, cord-tied pants that he had come back from the hospital in. Carefully the Alpha raised the man’s hips slightly to ease them down enough until he could pull them free completely and drop them over the side of the mattress, to be followed almost immediately by Dean’s boxers as well.

Sam had to look, and look twice!

Dean had testicles!

He suddenly understood why the nurses in Dean’s room had made shy comments about ‘never having met such an attractive hermaphrodite before’, how ‘really unusual it was’ and how it didn’t detract from his masculinity ‘at all’! Of _course_ the hospital staff would have noticed, but they must have just thought that Dean was slightly abnormal. They obviously hadn’t realised just _how_ unusual his mate was! And lucky they _hadn’t!_

Sam by this time, and without even realising what he was doing, was feeling the weight of Dean’s balls in his hands. And then in his mouth: sucking them in one at a time and rolling them around on his tongue, moaning a little at the completely new taste sensation. Then he moved on to the man’s cock as he felt and heard Dean also begin to moan and thrust his hips in involuntary invitation. And his hands settled into Sam’s long hair as the human woke from his slightly drugged sleep even as he came in the Alpha’s mouth. “Ugch… Sam?”

Sam wanted to make him feel good.

 _Sam_ wanted to feel good.

Quickly removing the rest of his own clothes, he crawled back up the bed to cover Dean’s body with his own, mindful not to put any weight on the bandaged area in any way. The man by this time was coming fully awake: “Sam! Wait! What are you doing?”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Dean. I’ll be gentle, I will. Just… I need to feel you. Need to have your heart beating with mine: need to feel you around me… to be _part_ of me! I’ll make it feel so good, I won’t knot! I promise.” And he was trying to knock Dean’s legs apart so he could lie between them, his own extremely large erect cock bumping against the bandages as the man beneath him desperately resisted.

“ _No_! No, Sam! I don’t want this: not with you! Please don’t do this to me!” And he was trying to push the Alpha off him, but the medication was still in his system to dull the pain… and dull his reflexes… and he was so tired. But he was _still_ going to try his damnedest to resist!

“It’s okay, Dean. Just let me: I’ll look after you! Please!"And Sam was catching at Dean’s arms, careful not to hurt or twist the plastered one at all, but using his greater weight to hold them down to the bed.

“Sam! Get _off_ me!” Dean was getting desperate: wriggling, struggling. Arching his body high in an attempt to throw him off.

Exposing his neck to the Alpha above him.

Sam’s full attention went to it: the wide, black collar… his _mate’s_ collar... was still around the human’s neck. Not that _his_ Dean ever wore it… or even _wanted_ to wear it. But some omegas did, as it was another obvious physical symbol to the world that they had already been claimed and therefore were to be, hopefully, left alone. _No one_ but the omega’s Alpha could remove their collar by law, and Sam had instantly recognised why and applauded Samuel for putting it on the human before he was taken to the hospital, thereby covering the lack of a mark on his neck. _Hiding_ the fact that he wasn’t claimed… and therefore vulnerable to _any_ Alpha who happened to realise that.

 _Sam_ realised that.

Shifting his hands to be able to hold both of Dean’s down in just one of his own, he used his free one to undo the leather strap and pull the whole thing away, leaving him to take in the expanse of mark-free, unblemished, un- _claimed_ skin that lay beneath. _Sam_ wanted to mark it. This look-alike…doppelganger…copy… duplicate… perfect double of his beautiful mate was unclaimed, beneath him… and _his_.

The Alpha inside of him growled its approval: it had missed its mate so much. Surely Our Lady had meant this to happen? Why should she have sent the human to this world else?

Dean’s body stiffened with surprise and terror as his brother’s features changed suddenly above him. Sam’s jaws suddenly distorted and extended slightly as his four canine teeth seemed to elongate to stand out from his mouth a good two inches longer they each had just been. Shit: this must be what he had meant when he had spoken of the mating bite!

He tried to force himself to remain calm, to try and get through to the logical, if somewhat self-righteous, man that he had spent the last few weeks getting to know. “Sam? Please don’t do this. I’m not your mate. Not your Dean. He’s going to come back… and I have to go. Just… think… _please_.”

Dean tensed as Sam’s head dipped towards his neck: he could feel the tips of the fangs pricking sharply either side against his skin. All his brother had to do was bite down.

He closed his eyes to try and brace against the pain that would surely be ripping into his throat at any minute…

But then Sam was blinking as if coming out of a daze.

Dean watched with a slight fascination, and a tremendous amount of relief as the canines receded to their normal length and his brother’s features returned to their usual handsome state. Then the younger man was pulling away from him with such haste that he all but tumbled from the bed, landing on his knees beside the mattress. “Oh… oh, Our Lady: have I hurt you? I’m so sorry! So _sorry_ … Dean… I…”

Sam was shaking, physically trembling as he knelt beside the bed. And Dean could feel his own heart pounding inside his chest hard enough to make _him_ shake with every beat. This place, he thought: it’s this fucking _place!_ He lay on his back and tried to calm his breathing, although he now realised that he was panting and gasping for air as if he had not been able to take a breath for hours!

“Dean?” And Sam was reaching for him…starting to reach to touch him as he lay on the bed, but not actually making contact, because he was hesitating instead, the Alpha for once unsure of himself. And there were tears gathering in his eyes, with a couple already escaping to slide down his back-to-normal face. “Dean? I… I’m so, _so_ sorry. I never even thought that I _could_ ever claim another again: I’ve always counted myself as fortunate that I was given the chance to _once!_ But to do that..? I… are you alright? Have I hurt you again? Dean?” And he was crying openly.

Dean looked at him: Sam’s expression was miserable. He had seen his real brother look like that so many times: every time he had let Dean down, and sworn faithfully he would never do it again, and Dean had forgiven him and hoped with all his heart that there would never be another Ruby, or Amy… and then Sam would just go and break it for him all over again…

“I’m good, Sam. It’s okay. _We’re_ okay. But…”

“But what, Dean?” He was already looking hopeful, his puppy-dog-eyes widening as he finally began to get up off the floor.

“Would you mind sleeping somewhere else tonight please?I’m so tired: I just need some sleep.”

The look on Sam’s face now reminded him of a puppy that had just been kicked instead, but he closed his eyes and tried to ignore it. “Sure, Dean. Of course, of course. I’ll… if you need anything, just call. I’ll be….” And the younger man was snatching up his clothes and hastily pulling them on even as he crossed to the door. Where he paused and looked back momentarily: “I’m so sorry, Dean. Really.”

“S’okay, Sam. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the door open and close again; the strong scent of his brother receding gradually as he went. He rested on his back and stared at the ceiling, feeling his heart still beating far too fast. This world!

Not for the first time since he had arrived, he closed his eyes and prayed to _any_ God, didn’t matter which, that happened to be listening, to let him finally be able to go home.

On the other side of the door, Sam rested his head against the wood. What had he just done? The man in there had nearly been killed saving his children, and, by way of thanks, he had nearly done _that?_  

He backed carefully away from the door and started with surprise as he suddenly sensed the presence of someone behind him in the hallway. “Samuel?”

“I thought I heard Dean cry out: is he alright? Is he in pain: shall I get his medication? What’s happened?”

“He’s fine: I just… I thought I’d sleep downstairs: give him some space. He must still be so tired. Goodnight, son.”

“Night, dad.”

Sam all but stumbled down the stairs, looked blankly at the wrecked living room, and headed for his study. The chair wasn’t going to be comfortable for sleeping, but then… how was he going to be able to sleep? Not after what he had just nearly done.

His mate, his _real_ mate, would be so ashamed of him and how he had behaved so far towards this other Dean. It should have been him protecting the smaller man and keeping him safe in this world: instead it had been him who had been the greatest danger to the human! He was as bad as any ‘knothead’ Alpha! Worse: because he _knew_ he should be able to behave better, to act intellectually rather than instinctively.

How was he going to explain this to his Dean when he finally came home. And… please Our Lady, let him be home soon…

Because… to hell with logic: instinct was _disagreeing_ with him. In his head, through his body, _every_ single part of him that was _Alpha_ , was still growling its _demand_ that he go straight back up those stairs into that bedroom, and claim what was _his!_ ”

 

         *                    *                      *                         *                  *

 

“Do you want a cheese and tomato omelette, or just scrambled eggs for lunch?”

Sam sighed at his brother’s shout from the small kitchen: actually he would have preferred bacon with his eggs! Or even better; a burger. Two burgers! Or a great big juicy steak. His mouth began to water at the thought.

He had been so thrilled at this healthy-eating, almost vegetarian version of Dean… at first. But fish or chicken and lots of greens had quickly gotten not quite enough, even despite this Dean being such a really good cook. He wanted _red_ meat. For the first time, he understood how irritated his real brother used to get when they went to a burger joint and all Sam wanted was a salad… and he wondered if he used to look at Dean’s food with as much hunger as he felt when he thought about eating it now?

Besides, he had a good excuse to _need_ to eat meat now! Or at least, something to give him energy, because… this Dean was waking him up more and more during the night wanting sex. Even _after_ the evenings before… He was _insatiable!_ And Sam, frankly, was exhausted. And sore, in places that he had never _been_ sore in before, not even during the first couple of months with Jess! And they hadn’t even _got_ to this thing that Dean was worried about: what was it… a heat? yet…

He was disturbed from his thoughts by the heavy steel door at the top of the stairs opening and Castiel appearing through it. “Hey, Cas!”

The other looked around at the greeting and smiled as he hurried down the steps to join Sam where he was sitting at the table working with his laptop. “Hello, Sam. You look tired.”

“And welcome to you as well, Cas. What brings you here? As if I don’t know.” And he was giving the angel a knowing smirk, which deepened as the other flushed a little in response.

“I was wondering how it was going: are you any closer to finding how to swap the Dean’s back again? Or even where ours might be?”

Sam sighed as he leant back in his chair enough to tip the front legs off the floor. “No, nothing! I’ve read every book in the bunker twice. Hell, _Dean’s_ read every book here twice! But there’s _nothing!_ Nothing to give any clue at all.

And I’ve called every Hunter I can think of, but no one has ever heard of _anything_ like this. And I get the impression they’re all thinking I belong back in the asylum for just _mentioning_ the existence of another dimension! Although… none of them believe in _time_ travel either… and _we_ know that’s possible.

Hell, _our_ Dean’s probably the expert on that subject, as it always seems to be him who’s taken _through_ it!” He laughed at the irony. “We could do with him _here_ , to ask about how we go about getting him _back!_ ”

“He’ll be working on it there, Sam, he’ll be wanting to come home. He’ll find a way.”

They both fell silent for a moment: “You _really_ think you felt something…a presence? From the moon?”

“I’m certain, Sam. There was… _something_ there: I distinctly felt it watching me. And we _both_ saw that spirit animal: _something_ caused that. Either Dean himself without realising, or… this ‘Lady’ that he assures us is watching over him.”

“So… a _Goddess_ , then? A moon goddess?” Sam thumped the legs back down and pulled his laptop forward again to make the screen light up on the site he had been currently studying. “I’ve researched plenty of _those_ as well! _And_ gods! And from many different societies and religions: Greek and Roman as usual, Hindu obviously, but also Aztec, Incan, Chinese, Native American Indian, Philippine, Egyptian; you name it! Some are even still worshipped today. And most seem to be connected with fertility and motherhood…which is somewhat apt for _this_ Dean, but not ours!

But again, nothing documented as more than beliefs, nothing actually real. Or at least: nothing that has _ever_ been chronicled in any of the ledgers in here!

And…if it _is_ a Goddess…? And I’m not saying that I believe it… but if it is… then how the hell are we going to _communicate_ with it…her? To convince her to swap them back? How?”

Their conversation was interrupted by Dean’s light footsteps approaching them from the direction of the small set of stairs: “Your omelette’s ready, Sam. I made one for you as well, Cas. I know you don’t eat… but it seemed rude not to.”

“How did you know I was here…?” The angel began, but caught back his own words as he reflected that Dean would have scented him the moment he entered the door. But then the question was forgotten anyway as he stared at the omega, his eyes crinkling with worry. “You are not well. What’s wrong?”

Sam turned in surprise and also stared at his brother. Castiel was right: Dean’s face was definitely looking unnaturally flushed. He swore at himself: _he_ should have noticed that!

“I’ve been cooking, that’s all. It’s nothing.” But Dean had turned away from them both, his head down, and was already beginning to return down the steps without even moving to greet the angel with his accustomed passionate embrace.

“Dean?” Sam’s was on his feet, his long legs taking him across the room in just a few strides, followed closely by Castiel, to catch at the other’s elbow and stop him in his tracks. “What is it?”

He was surprised when, for the first time since he had arrived, Dean tried to step away from him and his outstretched arms. And he was refusing to look up at Sam. The younger man gently caught his chin in his large fingers and made him tip his head back enough to see his face. “Dean, what _is_ it?”

Again his brother tried to look away, but failed. “It’s the start of the heat.” The others could hardly hear the embarrassed whisper. “That’s why I’ve been riding you so hard, no pun intended, hoping desperately to keep it at bay. But I can feel it building inside me, and it’s going to be bad, Sam. I haven’t had one for seven years! It’s going to be _bad_.”

His voice trailed off. Sam could see the tears glistening beneath the long lashes. He glanced over at Cas, who was looking as upset as he knew _he_ probably did. Gently he pulled Dean back up the top two steps and stepped away from them enough that both he and the angel could put their arms around him: entangling him securely between their firm bodies, Sam to his front and Castiel pressed against his back.

“Can we do anything to help?”

There was a shake of soft hair against his chin. “I’m sorry to you both in advance for what I’ll be like: I’m probably going to be… overly demanding when it hits full force.”

Sam pressed his hand to Dean’s forehead: his brother’s skin was definitely clammy. “Is that why it’s _called_ a heat? Because you’re genuinely going to get hot as well?”

“It’s the sign of its approach: yes, my temperature will go up a lot to just about feverish levels. I’ll start to get nauseous; chills; feel generally bleagh… then… the madness descends, and I’ll just want… _demand_ … “

“Demand what?”

There was a snort. “A knot. An omega wants a _knot_ … _needs_ a knot! Needs to be satisfied: needs to be bred. That’s what the heat _is_. And for that I need an _Alpha_. And possibly you two betas could help me through a normal, ‘regular’ heat if I hadn’t been using suppressants for years, but this… It’s not going to _be_ a normal one. Not at all. I need to go home: I need my _Sam._ ”

“Dean? Look at me.” He felt his brother physically sigh, but waited until the green eyes were looking up at him, brimming with anxious moisture. “We’ll get you through this. Cas and I will do whatever we have to, to get you through it. How long do you think we’ve got?”

“I’m not at the feverish stage yet. Perhaps tomorrow? Definitely by the day after.”

“Is there no way of stalling it?” The angel’s gravelly voice spoke up. “You said you were trying to keep it at bay?”

Dean’s eyes flashed in his direction: “Well, only by… But you’re going to struggle trying to satisfy me once the heat hits, _believe_ me: it will be crazy to exhaust you both before it starts!”

“But,” Castiel couldn’t help his smirk as he physically turned Dean, who was still wrapped between the two of theirs arms, enough to be able to get his mouth pressed against the omega’s full pink lips, his tongue already probing to try and get between them. “If there is just the _chance_ that it gives us an extra day to find a way to get you home… then we must be prepared to make sacrifices.”

He now had Dean fully facing him and was starting to loosen his clothing even as the other opened his mouth to allow him access. “I don’t know about Sam, but _I,_ for one, am ready to give everything I have to for the good of the cause!”

 

 

       *                  *                    *                      *                       *                     *                     *

 

Dean stirred from an uneasy sleep. He couldn’t settle: his abdomen where he had been stabbed hurt like shit; he was still un-nerved by that far too close encounter with Sam, and… He didn’t know what else, but there was something… something that he needed… something that would let him settle… something that… he wasn’t sure what it was but he wanted it. He wanted whatever it was.

More than that. He _needed_ whatever it was: he needed it to help him sleep.

Whatever the hell it was.

Rolling onto his back with a slight groan of pain, Dean stared out through the slightly parted drapes at the night sky beyond. There was a circular-shaped glow behind the clouds: the moon must be up and bright. He’d lost track of the lunar cycle over the stressful last few days, but, he thought, from the shape formed, it looked close to being full.

And, as if they had been listening to his thoughts, the clouds suddenly parted and the moon revealed herself. A bright, shining orb in the sky that momentarily dazzled him before, in the very next blink, his eyes had adjusted perfectly.

Dean gazed out at the sight with awe: in whichever world it was beautiful. The first night of the full moon, and it was just…absolutely stunning. And bigger than he had ever seen it before, although, when he came to think about it, it had looked large that early morning in Kansas City as well. The morning he had somehow arrived _here_.

Jesus: had that really been a month ago? Had he really been here that _long_?

He lay back and stared up at the ceiling, intending to concentrate on just relaxing and take deep calming breaths in to aid him in his bid for more sleep. But after just one, there was no more need. Because he had now become aware of the aroma in the room, the scent that he liked so much, the smell of the pure forest, and spring, and musk. He didn’t even need the light of the moon to tell him where the source of the wonderful smell was: Dean was raising himself on one elbow to look before he had even wondered about _how_ it was he knew.

“Samuel?”

The young man was sitting on the chair in the corner of the bedroom, the one that Dean had retreated to that very first night: shirtless and bare-footed, dressed only in his sleeping sweatpants, leant forward on the seat with his long legs opened wide, elbows on his knees, clasped together hands supporting his chin, his eyes staring anxiously at the human as if terrified to look away. But at the mention of his name, he was across the room and kneeling beside the bed in an instant.

“Are you alright? I smelt your stress. I was coming to stop dad. I _would_ have done, Dean! I wouldn’t have let him hurt you! He shouldn’t have done that!”

“It’s alright, Sammy. No harm done.”

“It’s _not_ alright, Dean. He _shouldn’t_ have touched you! You’re not his to touch!”

He tutted at Dean, who despite himself had had no choice but to chuckle at his righteous indignation. Then Samuel was carefully edging onto the bed next to him,starting to lift the bedcovers to join him beneath them…

“Whoa, Sammy! Not decent here!” And the man was clutching them to him in a hurry.

“I don’t mind, Dean.”

“Well, I do! Hand me those pants from the floor!”

Samuel sighed but reached them up for Dean, who pulled them on awkwardly beneath the covers, gritting his teeth at the pain in his abdomen as he moved. Then the young man was sliding in next to him, wrapping his left arm around the man’s shoulders and allowing Dean to use his chest as a makeshift pillow. “Is this okay? Am I hurting your wound in any way?”

“It’s fine. Better than fine. Thanks, Sammy.” And indeed, the warm strong body of the young man _did_ feel comfortable. Not to mention that the scent of his cologne was wafting over Dean like a comfort blanket, he really did like it so much: he could feel himself relaxing, his aches seeming to ease, sleep seeming finally within reach as his eye lids suddenly felt really heavy…

“What _is_ that you wear, Samuel? Your aftershave, or anti-perspirant, or whatever it is… I keep meaning to ask you…”

He was almost fully asleep: he almost didn’t process the sound of the snort, or Samuel’s next words: “I’m not wearing _anything_ , Dean. That’s _me_ : that’s my scent. It’s calling to you. Just like yours has been calling to mine ever since you arrived. Because you’re mine, and I’m yours. No matter _how_ much you try and deny it.”

“Sammy, that’s stupid…” Dean didn’t bother to try and open his eyes. “I’m not an omega…”

“Perhaps you weren’t. Not when you first arrived: your scent was so faint. But… since then… it’s got so much stronger! _Really_ strong: more than mom’s even! It’s been driving me crazy! Driving _all_ the Alphas crazy!

And… didn’t you wonder how the hospital never noticed that you weren’t? They took scans, Dean. They _operated_ on you, for Our Lady’s sake. Why didn’t _they_ notice that you weren’t an omega, unless of course… you _are_?”

“Samuel, I…” Dean was coming more alert. _What_ was he saying? That was crazy talk: he was human! Of course he was! He couldn’t be anything else… could he?

But the young man was still talking: “And you’ve changed in other ways, haven’t you, Dean? Your sense of smell? You know where we all are in the house, don’t you? You may not realise it but your nose twitches with every breath you take now. And your hearing, definitely. Much better than mine, and mine’s really good! And when you jumped down the stairs: is that something you could have done before? What about your eyesight? Has that changed?”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Dean was indignant, and rightly so. Samuel was being _ridiculous_. He sat up to tell the young man so, and stopped.

For the moon had disappeared behind the clouds once more: the room was in complete darkness. Yet Dean suddenly was realising that he could see everything easily. Really easily. But it was… almost monochrome. He could see everything around him so clearly, but all in black and white, and grey. And possibly a drab beige. But no other colour at all. He stared incredulously at Samuel, who was also leaning up on his elbow and… reaching out to him.

He felt the touch of the boy’s hand on his cheek, and… it felt good. It shouldn’t feel good! Not from this boy. “What else, Dean? What else is different? And why do you like my smell so much? Because if you want me to prove it, I can go and have a shower, use nothing but water, and I’ll come out with exactly the same scent because it’s _me_ , Dean. Just me. You can come into the shower with me and see, if you’d like.”

That last part was definitely said flirtatiously. And he was now leaning forward, aiming to close his mouth on the hum… Dean wasn’t quite sure about that anymore. He pulled away, trying to maintain some control over himself and what was happening. “This… I… I’m nearly twenty years older than you, Sammy! Don’t even go there! This can’t… this _shouldn’t_ …”

“Age difference doesn’t matter here, Dean. Gender doesn’t matter even. It’s all about the scents: how they complement each other. And ours _want_ to mix, want to merge together. We’re _soulmates_. I know it: you know it. You need mine to feel complete: were you having trouble sleeping without it?

If I wrap you in my arms and hold you now, how quickly _will_ you fall asleep? I bet you would. I may not be presented yet, but our _scents_ know that we were created for each other. Come down here.

Come _here_ , Dean.”

And he was laying back down on the bed again, pulling Dean to lie with him. And despite himself, the older man was obeying the order and following, until they had returned to their position of just a few minutes before, with him resting against the young man’s chest, Samuel’s left arm protectively around him, holding him close, the aroma of his… natural scent… filling Dean’s nostrils.

Despite himself, he inhaled deeply… and felt himself relax.

Then, as he felt Samuel’s lips begin to nuzzle into his hair, Dean’s fear grew again. He shouldn’t _be_ here. Not like this. Not with this good-looking young man. Why had he just thought about how good-looking he was?

He had _noticed_ , naturally. Because Samuel _was_ very good-looking! As well as already having a really good body, _and_ being an absolute sweetheart, really good company and already somebody that Dean loved very, very much. But not because they were soulmates! That was ridiculous!

His dad would be so ashamed of him.

He would tell Dean he was letting him down.

Although… if Dean were honest with himself… he _always_ let his dad down… in _everything_. He was never fast enough; strong enough; ready enough; smart enough; good enough. Not at _anything_. Sam had always told him that he was stupid for trying to please the man. Because he never could… and he never did.

And… if Dean were _really_ honest with himself… his relationship with Sam was going the same way. It seemed as if nothing he ever did now was good enough for his _brother_ , either! He always somehow made Dean feel small mentally as well as physically, as if he was only tolerating him until he could leave again. And he didn’t even _bother_ to look for Dean when he got trapped in Purgatory: what did _that_ say about what his brother thought of him? Really, what _would_ Sam say if he saw Dean lying on a bed with a man? And a much younger man, at that? _He_ would tell Dean he was letting him down as well. 

And he probably was.

He _always_ seemed to, somehow.

“Whatever you’re thinking about, stop it.”

Dean started as Samuel suddenly broke the silence. “I… what?”

“Your scent has turned so sad, Dean.” He wriggled down the bed, turning himself onto his side so he could face the man eye to eye as they lay there. “I don’t like it when you’re sad: I’m going to make it my purpose in life that you never are again.”

“Sammee…” Despite himself, he was smiling at the young man’s earnestness. And it _did_ feel good when Samuel wrapped his right arm around him as well and pulled their bodies even closer, even _though_ it shouldn’t. “You’re just a kid: really you are, compared to me… I’m _far_ too old for you. You’ve just got a bit of a crush, that’s all. Especially after recent events.”

“Dean? Get this through your head, will you? It’s not about our ages: it’s about _us!_ And just for the record… you’re absolutely perfect!” And his mouth was once again awkwardly trying to find Dean’s, pushing against the man hard enough to make the other slightly turn away and onto his back without realising, with Samuel immediately taking the chance to follow, carefully laying his body half over the other’s while making sure he didn’t put any pressure on any of his wounds. “And it’s not just _me_ that thinks that: _you’ve_ seen the attention you get from all the Alphas!”

“You’re making me sound like a hot chick!” Dean was amused and disgruntled all at the same time.

“You _are_ a hot chick! You’re an _incredibly_ hot chick!” Samuel chuckled, but then abruptly turned serious. “You’re a beautiful omega, Dean. _Really!_ You are, seriously, absolutely stunning. And… I’m asking you to consider accepting me as a mate. Seriously, age doesn’t matter here but if it does so much to you… do you think you can get over me being younger than you? Do you think you _could?_ ”

Dean stared up at him incredulously: there were tears gathering in the young man’s eyes at the thought that he might be being rejected. It was instinctive for him to put his hands up to wipe them away even as they started to trickle down Samuel’s cheeks. And somehow touching the young man’s face, holding him so intimately… felt nice. Even though the tears were still coming, and now running down Dean’s wrists. “Hey! You’re going to get my plaster cast all wet!”

“Sorry.” And the other was trying to wipe away his tears himself. Dean did so love this gorgeous young man: he did really _love_ him. And looking up into the green eyes that were almost a match for his own… he wanted to make those dimples appear again. He really hated it when his mate was sad as well…

Why the hell had he just thought of him as his _mate?_

Dean stared up at Samuel, who stared back, still sniffling: his young face showing his nervousness, and embarrassment, and hesitation, and yearning. And shyness. He had never seen Samuel so uncertain, but he _was_ : he was biting his lips with anxiety because he had taken the chance to declare his feelings out loud and was literally shaking with nerves as he waited for the response. Dean’s attention focused on those lips, and wondered what it would be like to kiss them.

And then, he wanted to do just that.

And suddenly…what his dad might have thought? And what the real Sam _would_ think? Suddenly neither of them mattered. Because Dean… _wanted_ this.

But he couldn’t.

And he _knew_ he couldn’t.

He had to go home: the children…and Samuel… needed their mother, and the only way the other Dean could return was for him to go. Although… as he looked up at the young man…suddenly, for the _first_ time, he regretted that he had to.

He opened his mouth to tell Samuel that. Just as the young man leant right over Dean and lowered his upper body enough that their mouths were meeting once more. And _this_ time, Dean was tempted enough to respond.

Dean had kissed numerous ladies over the years: he had even tried kissing men once or twice when he was younger. Not to mention this last month when he had been forced to kiss this world's version of Sam a few times.

But _Samuel_ …?

He tasted every bit as good as his scent smelt. And although obviously a novice at kissing, he seemed intent on learning fast. And… it felt really good: more than that, it felt _right_.

 _They_ felt right.

But he had to go home.

And he was suddenly realising that... somehow, he was now lying _beneath_ the other on the bed.

 _And_ that Samuel was _extremely_ aroused in his sweatpants. And god, he was _more_ than rivalling his father when it came to that department.

And _he_ was hard as well: and all his senses were singing inside him, every inch of his skin was tingling with pleasure at being so close to this young man, and… with every inhale, the spring-forest sweet scent was washing through him like a physical wave, flowing into every particle of his body and soul, filling him with contentment and…completeness.

What had Samuel just said: that they were soulmates? They weren’t even the same species: this was impossible. This was wrong: he had to stop this. Nothing good could come from this.

But Samuel was speaking again: what was he saying? “You know, Dean. I’ve been waiting for years, desperate to present. Wondering why I haven’t, but I finally realise why. You weren’t here.”

“I… What?”

“Our Lady brought you here, Dean. To save our family. To save our _world_. And…”

Despite himself, Dean couldn’t help but smile at his intensity. “And?”

“And she brought you to me, Dean. You were created for me, and I was created for you. That’s why we feel so right together. I know it: you know it. There would have been no _point_ in me presenting earlier because you weren’t _here!_

But you are now.”

And as if on cue, the full bright intensity of the moon was suddenly streaming through the drapes. Dean would have momentarily winced in the brief instant before his eyes un-humanly adjusted almost instantaneously, but… he didn’t even notice.

Because his _whole_ attention was suddenly focused on Samuel.

The boy felt the entire majestic power of Our Lady sweep through him as he finally presented. He felt every single molecule in his body disintegrate and rebuild simultaneously before he even had the chance to scream. His eyesight, already good, became absolutely perfect: twenty-twenty, even at night. He didn’t realise it but they glowed with an eerie interior light momentarily as he absorbed every single miniscule particle from the moon’s rays.

Every muscle he had was torn apart and reformed, rippling with innate strength and masculinity. His hearing sharpened enough to catch the slightest rustle of breeze through a cobweb.

His animal ancestry flowed through him momentarily as the nails in his fingers and toes momentarily turned back into claws that erupted from his appendages before receding once again. His balls formed, with the strangest and most _uncomfortable_ prickling sensation as they grew as if from the interior of the rest of his flesh and immediately filled with seed ready to be spread. His knot also came into being: erupting from and expanding his already erect cock until he was all but crying with the sensation, then, just as abruptly the uncomfortable swollen feeling was gone, leaving him with just the desperate desire to _use_ it. To bury himself deeply into his chosen mate and _howl_ at Our Lady with pleasure.

His sense of smell also impossibly sharpened: Samuel wouldn’t have believed it possible, not that he was getting much of a chance to think about any of it anyway, but he had always thought of his ability to scent as being good. It had been _nowhere_ near it. _Now_ he could suddenly smell everything in the room, in the house, in the street. But _nothing_ else was anywhere near as important as the one thing that _every_ one of his new senses instantly and sharply focused on.

One perfect scent. The scent that had been affecting him ever since he had smelt it a month before. The scent of his mate. His soulmate. The one destined to be his and sent by Our Lady herself.

He was here.

Right now.

And he was so beautiful. So _perfect_.

And Samuel _would_ have him.

And even as that certainty flashed through Samuel’s mind, he felt his jaw begin to distort and his canines extending, sharpening to deadly points ready to deliver the claiming bite: forcing him to hold his mouth open uncomfortably until the strike was made.

 _He_ was an Alpha.

And the only thing that mattered to him… would _ever_ matter to him… was his omega.

His mate. His Dean.

 _His_.

Samuel caught his breath and stared down in triumph at the wide-eyes of the incredulous man beneath him.

Dean couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. Samuel had transformed from an, all-be-it already strong and fit, good-looking youth, into a really _incredibly_ handsome Alpha in front of his very eyes.

 _His_ Alpha.

And the eyes of his Alpha were focused on _him_. And _only_ on him.

“Samuel?”

He had been told of what would happen next: that a newly presented Alpha would be driven by sheer lustful instinct to mate immediately above all else… and _he_ was the target.

He had to _stop_ this.

Carefully, Dean began to wriggle out from beneath the youn… now suddenly matured man, sliding himself carefully to the side of the mattress even as the eyes never left his. It was with a slight relief that he felt the edge and started to pull himself out of the bed.

The sound of the low rumbling growl made him pause.

“Samuel?” Dean was trying to keep the Alpha calm, and to some extent himself. “I know what you’re thinking: what you’re hoping. But I have to go home, man. I can’t be what you want from me. I can’t.”

_“Mine!”_

And Samuel was moving, turning on the bed, drawing himself up on all fours: his muscles tightly coiled as an animal does when ready to pounce on prey.

“Not yours, Sammy. I know that’s what you’re thinking… but… you have to get in control of yourself. Because this… _us_ … can’t be. We just can’t.”

He was backing away from the bed, moving in the direction of the door, ignoring how his injuries and muscles were all complaining at being held so tensely. Samuel grasped the bed clothes and tore them away from him in case they impeded his spring. And he _was_ going to spring.

Dean could _see_ he was going to spring at him.

And he so did _not_ want to hurt this young man that he genuinely, really, truly did _love_. And _want_ , in a way that he had never felt with another man before. But he had to go home. He _had_ to. He would just have to hope that he could fend off the new Alpha before things got too out of hand.

And even as he thought that, Samuel was at him. Faster than Dean could blink. He felt himself being snatched from where he was standing and suddenly the hardness of the wall was impacting behind his back. Or rather… he had been suddenly body-slammed _into_ the wall by the force of Samuel physically tackling him, which was more likely.

And a little part of him was impressed by the strength of his Alpha.

But then his fighting instincts were kicking in and he was slicing both his palms down against each side of the top of Samuel’s neck and back as the other was leaning into him, trying to use his own body to contain him where he thought he had Dean trapped. Samuel grunted with pain, straightened up and moved to seize Dean’s hands in his… what now seemed suddenly much larger than the before he presented ones, but Dean was already moving to try and block him, wincing at the bolt of pain through his right wrist as he twisted his arm out of the intended grasp and… he didn’t want to strike at Samuel’s neck in case he snapped it.

He would _never_ hurt this young man, although somehow he had to stop him.

But Samuel had managed to catch hold of his left arm and was using his new-found strength to hold it against the wall. Dean knew he daren’t let him get hold of his right one as well: all he could do was grab hold of the other’s neck with his right hand and press his thumb as hard as he could against his windpipe, hoping to cause the younger man to pull away, if not actually to black out. But Samuel was determined to subdue him. Dean gasped as he was slammed back against the wall to try and break his hold. And then again.

It succeeded. Pain ricocheted up Dean’s broken arm and he lost his grip, seemingly without having had any effect on Samuel in his induced lustful state at all. Lustful!

His so-called soulmate was aroused…fully aroused. So Dean did the only thing he could do and kicked him as hard as he could in the groin with his bare heel, wincing himself a little at just the thought of it.

He hurt his own foot. But he hurt the younger man as well. Samuel staggered backwards momentarily but it was enough to let Dean catch a breath that he hadn’t realised that he had been unable to get for the last minute.

Then Samuel was coming at him again, rushing in with incredible speed, desperate to contain his arms fully this time and bring his chosen mate to the ground so he could claim him. If he could just manage to get hold of Dean’s hands and hold him down…

But Dean was already ready for him, moving hastily to one side in his own blur and letting the younger man’s impetus take him headfirst into the wall.

He still didn’t fall.

He still tried to turn and come at Dean.

With a sigh, Dean punched him straight in the face, knocking the younger man to his knees.

And _still_ he tried to get up.

Dean took a firm grasp in the back of Samuel’s hair and pulled his head back. For a moment their eyes met: the new Alpha’s a mixture of animal rage and pleading to be accepted as a mate: Dean’s simply full of regret. “I’m so sorry, Samuel.”

And then he was slamming his clenched hand down against the younger man’s forehead with all his strength, feeling the force of it rock through his arm until he thought he would black out with the pain, but at least he had avoided breaking the perfectly uptilted nose. And even as Samuel finally fell, Dean was on him as he hit the floor, wrapping himself tightly around Samuel’s limbs, grasping his arms beneath his own, not letting him move, not giving him the chance to grab for him again.

The Alpha winced, growled and tried to struggle free, but Dean just held on. “Samuel. Samuel? You have to calm down and get in control. You have to, man. You’re not an animal: you’re my _Sammy!”_

He swore as the other managed a lucky blow backwards with his head and caused his own nose to start to bleed heavily. And he knew he would have to have his wrist reset: he could feel the pieces of the bone twisting unnaturally beneath the plaster as he tried to hold on to the taut and twisting body beneath him.

“Dean? What’s going on? I…” And Johnny was there beside him, his eyes wide with terror at the sight of an Alpha in full mating mode: extended canines and all.

“Get your dad! He’s downstairs! _Go!_ ”

“But your face!”

It seemed like an age between the boy running out of the room and Sam finally arriving to help hold his son down.

“Has he hurt you? Crap, your nose, Dean: has he broken it? Samuel, fight it! _Please!_ Was I like this? Oh, Our Lady, Dean must have been so _terrified_ of me!”

“Sam?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

But then Samuel was taking many deep breaths, and panting, and… the fangs were withdrawing back to their normal appearance. “Dean?” he was gasping with the effort of containing his newly conscious instincts. “I’m so sorry. But you and me: we should be. You know it as well: I felt it in your kiss!”

“I should never have done that. _I’m_ so sorry, Samuel. You and me can never be. I have to go home.”

“But we’re soulmates, Dean! My scent calls to yours: you know it does. You need me… _really_ you do. We _have_ to be!”

“Soulmates?” And Sam was looking at Dean. As was Johnny.

“We can’t, Sammy. You’re gonna get over this, get over me. Go to college like you’ve been hoping. Find a nice omega, maybe even a male one. Settle down, and be grateful that we didn’t do this. One day, you’ll be thankful that this never happened.”

“That’s not how it works, Dean. One soulmate destined. Only one. And you’re mine and I’m yours. And you know it! There will never be anyone else for me. Not _ever_.”

He twisted desperately in Dean’s tight arms, trying to turn his head until he could look straight at him: physically shaking from trying to hold the Alpha now inside from just trying to _take_ again. Sweat was dripping from his forehead and running down his back just from keeping the most basic of animalistic impulses under control now they had awakened within him.

And it _was_ something inside him: Samuel had never understood the smutty talk on all the TV shows about having to obey the ‘inner Alpha’ before, but… now he had _presented_ , there was definitely something in him that hadn’t been there before: a being formed from pure instinct inside his mind and body that was threatening to override all his ideals and moralities.

All he could feel was the over-riding everything else urge to mate, and his mate was so close, and so strong, and so perfect, and why couldn’t Dean just see it: that they were _meant?_ That this was what Our Lady _wanted!_ For them to be together!

Desperately he tried to fix his gaze onto Dean’s eyes, and despite himself the man was staring back into his. He just couldn’t seem to look away, not when the new Alpha… _his_ Alpha… was commanding his omega. Not even when Sam suddenly grabbed at Johnny and took him out of the room.

It took _all_ his strength for Dean to finally tear his attention away from Samuel’s eyes… and lips.

“We can’t, Samuel. I have to go home. And that would leave you alone. I can’t do that to you.”

“I’ve found my soul mate, Dean. So have you. If you reject me, then we’ll always be alone _anyway._ ”

“You’ll find another.”

 _“Never.”_ And Samuel finally went fully lax in his arms, mentally pleading with him to change his mind and simply give in to his instincts. “There will _never_ be anyone else for me, Dean. Never…

But… if you’re really rejecting me. I’ll wait, Dean. I’ll wait until you’re ready. Until the end of everything, I’ll wait for you.”

“Sammy, you’re being ridiculous!” And Dean was getting angry: this wasn’t fair to put this on him. This just wasn’t fair!

Samuel was now under control of himself despite tears of heartbreak running down his cheeks. Still unable to move his upper limbs, he managed to gently reach his mouth up enough to kiss Dean on the lips, ignoring the blood still dripping from the man’s nose where he had caught him with his head. And despite himself, Dean kissed back, with the same sensation running through him as before… that this was the best thing he would _ever_ have somehow…

But he couldn’t. He had to go home.

He wasn’t even aware that he was crying himself as he pulled his mouth away from the younger man’s. “I have to go.”

“I know.” And they stared at each other. “If you can’t stay, then I’m coming with you, Dean. No argument. And if not… then I’ll wait. Surely Our Lady didn’t bring you to me, just to tear us apart…? I’ll wait for _ever_ for you.”

“Samuel…”

“I mean it, Dean. I’ll _wait_ for you. This isn’t the end for us: it _can’t_ be!”

And he was tilting his head down enough to rest his head against the man’s shoulder, nuzzling into his neck, his soft hair tickling against Dean’s jaw. And his tears were dropping on Dean’s arms and soaking into his plaster cast. And Dean knew he could probably now let go of the Alpha completely: the danger was over.

But for some reason he didn’t want to.

He looked round as Sam peered round the door and came back inside the room, followed by the little boy. “Are you _soulmates_ , Dee?”

“No, that’s not possible, Johnny.”

“My scent relaxes you, Dean. Tell them the truth. You said it did yourself.”

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean…. And I still have to go, Samuel. I have no choice: this one has to have his mom back.” And he was reaching to ruffle the hair of the little boy and trying to pull him in for a hug as well.

But Johnny was abruptly desperately pulling back, screwing his face up as if about to burst into tears. “You’re going, Dean? But you _can’t!_ Who will look after _me?_ ”

The man looked at him with genuine surprise. “Your dad will! And your mom when he gets back!”

“But I don’t feel _safe_ with them!” And now he was crying uncontrollably. “You _have_ to stay!” And he was ignoring his dad, and instead clutching at Dean, pleading with him. “What if I _am_ an omega? I’ll be claimed like…that!” And he was gesturing at Samuel hysterically. “ _I_ can’t fight an Alpha off! You have to stay with us!”

And now Dean was releasing his grip on Samuel completely and instead pulling Johnny into his arms to console the boy. “Your world’s gonna change! You dad’s going to do it, you’ll see. But I have to go home. _Really_ I do! And you need your mom!”

“I know I do!” He was now snivelling. “But I need _you_ as well! Promise me you’ll come back!”

“Johnny… I…”

“Promise me, Dean! Please! Come back to us! Promise me you will, we need you here! _Samuel_ needs you here! _I_ need you here! _Please_ , Dean, _promise_ me!”

He was looking up into Dean’s eyes, begging him, tears still streaming from his eyes. And despite himself, Dean was sighing.

“I _can’t_ promise you I’ll come back, Johnny. I might never be _able_ to. But I _can_ promise you that I’ll try. I’ll try my hardest to.”

“Really?”

“I promise. I’ll try. I’ll never _stop_ trying.”

And Johnny was still crying, but collapsing against him and sobbing into his chest. And Dean held him tightly, noticing wryly how the blood still all over his face was rubbing off on the boy’s hair, and then he was looking across at Sam. Who was smiling sadly back at him and nodding. And Samuel was sitting up, the bruises starting to show up vividly on his young face, and hesitantly putting his arms around his little brother…and Dean as well.

And across the city, a blue half stone began to softly glow.


	20. Chapter 20

“Sam! _Sam!_ ”

The shout from somewhere in the bunker was an excited one. Sam blinked and sleepily tried to open his eyes, wincing at the bright light of the morning. It took him a few moments to try again, and then it seemed no better. And he _hurt_. His whole body felt _wrecked_.

“ _Sam!_ ” Dean’s shouts were getting louder as he was approaching the bedroom: he sounded _very_ excited about something. Sam supposed that he should really try and get up, but… just a few minutes more.

There was a rustling in the bed beside him, and Castiel’s head was coming into view from beneath the rumpled bedding: the angel’s hair tousled and stuck down with sweat. And _he_ was groaning as well as he tried to turn over onto his back. Despite himself, Sam chuckled at the sight of him: “Rough night?”

“Extremely.” Castiel’s voice sounded even more gravelly than usual. “But I would not have missed it, Sam. Not for anything. Where’s…?” He was looking around the room, realising that there were only the two of them in there now when during the night there had been three!

“He’s up and about somewhere.”

“Where does he get the energy from, Sam? Even with my grace, this physical body is exhausted. And…” he was remembering… certain events of the previous half day and all night. “Did Dean manhandle me to the bed last night? I seem to recall him picking me up and throwing me on to it because I wasn’t getting back to it as fast as he seemed to think I _should_ be… “

“Yeah, Cas. Yeah he did. And you _loved_ it, you dirty dog, you…!“

“I don’t think he was irritated at me because of my lack of cleanliness, Sam. More my lack of speed.”

“Yeah, Cas. Yeah, I meant…”

But the door to the room was being flung open so violently that it hit the wall behind it, and the omega was suddenly in the room, waving something that he was holding in Sam’s direction. “It’s glowing, I can go home!”

“What?”

Then Dean, rather than walking around the bottom corner of the bed, was leaping straight over it in his excitement to end up standing beside Sam who had finally managed to struggle to sit up, where he knelt on the mattress and held out the stone to him reverently. “It’s _glowing_ , Sam! The other Dean must have found a way to get us back! Come on, get up! We need to get back to the warehouse!”

“But…are you sure, Dean? I can’t see _anything_.”

“It is indeed glowing, Sam.” The angel was agreeing, but he didn’t sound happy about it. “A faint blue, but definitely there. But why do you think you must go back to the warehouse, Dean?”

“Of _course_ I have to! It’s where all this happened! It’s where it will all _end!_ Now, hurry up! Can I drive? One last time? Or…” his eyes lit up as he realised: “ _I_ can drive it there, and _your_ Dean can drive it back! You two can both stay here if you want!”

“You don’t want us there to say goodbye?” “But… you’d be in the city on your own, Dean. Won’t you be scared?” Sam wasn’t sure which of the two of them sounded most upset at the thought of this Dean going home.

“Well, yes. But I can lock myself securely in Baby, and as long as I can park in that alley… If you two would prefer to sleep longer.” He bit his lip a little and tried to look apologetic but failed: “I’m sorry if I pushed you both too much last night, but it’s worked: at least for today. I’m not quite as unbearably hot as I was yesterday! I might make it home in time to get to Sam after all! But it’s a long way back to Kansas City, so, if you’re coming… come on!”

And he was jumping back over the corner of the bed and running out the door. And from the direction he took, heading straight to Sam’s old room, returning almost immediately with some clean clothes for the younger man to put on.

“Have I got time for a shower, Dean? And some coffee?”

But he could see from the other’s suddenly downturned smile just how disappointed he was at any delay. With a sigh, he got naked out of the bed and reached to pull Dean into his arms and hold him close: “This is going to be the last time, isn’t it? And I’m glad… for you. And for finally getting my Dean home… but I will miss you so _much_. I just want to tell you that in case I don’t get the chance later.”

He felt the other’s green eyes on him, but suddenly couldn’t face them: not wanting to spoil the other’s excitement and relief by showing how upset he was about the coming actuality of losing this Dean. Instead he looked over at Castiel who was coming around to them from the other side of the bed, also in an undressed state, to join in the mutual embrace. And on his face, he could see every bit as much upset as he felt in himself.

And every bit as much worry.

Because, God willing: they were going to be getting the _real_ Dean back as well that day.

But… just how was he going to react when he realised what had been going on in his absence?

 

         *                        *                               *                                  *                                         *                                *

 

Dean felt so much better being dressed again in his own clothes. And Sam had offered him back his gun and knife without being asked. He had to get home, where he could let the memory of the kiss fade and try and convince himself that it _hadn’t_ been just everything he had ever hoped for…

He looked around the bedroom for what he hoped would be the last time, hoping for the goodbye but not wanting to face it either. And for one last time, he looked at the large photo on the wall.

It was one that had been done professionally of the whole family posed in a studio: Sam standing proudly with his arms tightly around _his_ Dean and the three youngsters smiling in front of them, obviously a few years before as Johnny only looked about six and had had both front teeth missing at the time, while Mary-Anne was all chubby cheeks and bright shining eyes. Dean moved across to really study it, especially the boy that had tried to claim him the night before: he must have been about fourteen in the photo, with long gorky limbs and gentle, gentle green eyes. Completely different from how they had seemed to glow from the rays of the moon the night before…

But, as he stared at it… well, since when had the family been standing in front of a large cut-out of the moon in the picture? He could have sworn that it hadn’t been there even a moment before.

And then, as Dean looked, he realised that, somehow, the moon was now in _front_ of the photo. In fact, it appeared to be on the glass above that was protecting it: seeming almost like a _reflection_ …

But there was no moon to _reflect_.

And _certainly_ not one that was as large as this: it was filling the whole of the flat surface of the picture. As he stood in front of it he could clearly see his _own_ reflection inside the perfect circular shape. It was large enough that it _easily _encompassed his head and shoulders inside its lines, now completely obscuring the photo of the family beneath, and it certainly _hadn’t_ been there just a few minutes before, so what was it….?__

____

And then there was a pale blue glow: only slight, only a wisp of a hint flashing across the surface of the mirage of the moon…

____

Dean stared into the frame: he had seen so many strange things in his life, but this…? Was this what had brought him here? “Why did you do this, Milady? Was it to save the family, or…? And why has my sight changed? And my scent? And why do I notice Samuel’s so much, now? What have you done to me? _Answer_ me, damn you!”

____

He was getting angry: he had changed, he _knew_ he had changed. But into what?

____

And then his breath was momentarily failing him, as the wide, pure circle of the moon’s surface on the image, or reflection, or whatever it was, opened and looked at him…and he realised that he was staring into an _eye_ : the ‘moon’ being just the eye lid, and the iris was of the most intense and brilliant pale blue to match her power, and the pupil being the universe itself, full of stars and darkness for as far as Dean could see into it…for eternity.

____

And he stared right into her soul, and she stared into his.

____

And then… she _winked!_

____

The eye winked at him, and he… _felt_ … her smile. Felt the warmth of it inside him. Felt it spread throughout his body.

____

And then she was gone, and it was just the picture of the family once more. And his reflection amongst them.

____

 

____

           *                       *                         *                             *                             *                              *

____

 

____

“Slow down, Dean: you’re going to get us pulled over!”

____

“Sorry.” And the omega was checking his speed and slowing the Impala a little… but not much. He was almost bouncing in his seat with excitement that he might be finally going home, and Sam tried to make himself be glad for him.

____

“Why do you think it’s suddenly glowing?” Dean abruptly asked out loud. “Do you think your Dean’s managed to do…whatever Our Lady _took_ him to do? Do you think that’s it? That I was just… _collateral_ while he was doing whatever it was she wanted?”

____

“I don’t know, Dean. I really don’t. But does it matter? The stone’s glowing, and hopefully that means you’re going home. Isn’t that what you want?”

____

“Yes, but…”

____

“But?”

____

The other sighed: “But… I… I thought… well, wondered… that it might be _me_. That I was special somehow… and that’s why this has happened. Instead,… really… I’ve just been… waiting for _your_ Dean to do… whatever.”

____

“You _are_ special, Dean.” Castiel was speaking up from the rear seat. “That spirit animal appeared for _you_ , to watch over _you_. And you saved _us_ , for which I will always be grateful to you and Your Lady for. And I will _always_ be grateful for getting to know _you_.”

____

Dean smiled at him through the rear view mirror. “And I am glad I got to know you, _both_ of you. I do love the two of you: I always will. And _thankyou_ : you have kept me alive here. And safe! I have felt _safe_ with you both, _thank_ you!”

____

“It’s our pleasure, Dean.” And Sam was reaching to hold his brother’s hand, while the angel leant forward slightly to reach over and gently touch Dean’s shoulder.

____

While they still could.

____

 

____

                       *                               *                                *                              *                                 *                                *

____

 

____

The interior of the car was completely silent as Sam pulled it into the alley that led to the warehouse. But tears were in all the adult’s eyes, and ran freely down both the children’s faces.

____

As a goodbye, Dean had cooked them all bacon and pancakes with maple syrup, and told Samuel that he was still to go to College as he had been hoping to, and he _would_ find someone else. And Samuel had bitten his swollen and bloodied lip but remained silent.

____

And Johnny had suddenly interrupted them by telling them all about _his_ plans for training to be a chef that Dean had already been encouraging him about for the last couple of weeks, and about his eventual dream to one day perhaps open a bakery-café with Dean, and so Dean _had_ to keep his promise to return as he would be needed for his delicious cakes, while Johnny did the pastries, And Sam had smiled, and said that he could just see Johnny doing that and making a real go of it. And he would be very proud of him if he did.

____

And Mary-Anne had just clung onto Dean’s left arm tightly and not let go, as if she could stop what was about to happen through sheer will-power.

____

And there was already a hole in all their hearts that would never be filled until he was back with them again.

____

So it was a silent carload that pulled up into the alley outside the warehouse. Samuel carried his sister and held Dean’s left hand tightly, while Johnny gripped the man’s fingers on his right hand so that he almost feared they would be broken so as to match his incredibly painful wrist that he was _not_ going to mention for fear of being dragged back to the hospital, and without a word they all followed Sam down into the cellar area where it had all begun.

____

Nothing seemed to have changed… but Dean’s eyes went straight to something on the ground. Something that was glowing a pale blue.

____

Carefully he released himself from the others’ determined grips and went to warily pick whatever it was up: at least it wasn’t very bright yet. Not as bright as he remembered anyway.

____

“Dean?”

____

“Stay there… just in case. And it was really rough last time: I was knocked right out. Just be careful of the children: I don’t want them getting hurt because of me.”

____

“I’m coming with you, if I can. I _mean_ that.”

____

And Sam was glancing sharply at his son but nodding with understanding, although he bit his lip at the thought that he might never see him again.

____

But he couldn’t help but be sad for Samuel as Dean immediately quashed the new Alpha’s hopes: “It’s stopped glowing. The moment you said that. She’s not going to let you come with me, Sammy. That’s what I was trying to tell you: I’ll _try_ and return, I will. I’ve _promised_ I will. But… you need to concentrate on getting your education: you’ll find someone else. Someone perfect for you is out there: I _know_ it.”

____

Not a soulmate, Sam wanted to tell him: there is only _ever_ one soulmate. No one else will _ever_ be good enough.

____

But now he was finally reaching to pick the object up. And frowning. Because it looked like a stone.

____

Just a stone!

____

A largish, palm-sized, pebbly-smooth stone, perfect for skimming if it had been whole, but it wasn’t. In fact it looked like it had been… melted in two! One edge was glassed and polished as if it had been in an intense heat, and the shape of the thing was like a half-moon.

____

Was that really all it had been? A fucking _stone?_

____

And then it began to glow again, the blue shining right through his fingers to give almost an x-ray effect. And it was getting stronger.

____

“Wait! Wait!” and Dean was putting the stone down hastily and hurrying back to say his last goodbyes.

____

With one great big hug, his arms were around both children, careful not to catch either of them with the hard plaster cast. “You’re going to see your mom again! That’s good! Don’t be sad!”

____

“But we are!” He could hardly catch the whispers beneath their tears. “Hurry back, _please!_ We already miss you!”

____

“I’m already missing _you_ as well! Love you both. _So_ much!” And with one last kiss for each of them, he was straightening up and turning to Sam. “Samuel, look away!”

____

“ _What_ …?!” And the new Alpha was trying, and failing, to control his angry growl as Dean embraced Sam one last time, and was hugged back just as tightly.

____

“I’m so sorry for how I’ve behaved. And… thank you so much. For _everything!_ If you hadn’t _been_ here…”

____

“You just look after these three. And say ‘hey’ to your Dean for me: I hope I get to meet him one day.”

____

“Make it soon, Dean. I _mean_ that. It’s not only Samuel who’ll be looking to get you home. And when you do come back, we’ll have this world _right!_ My Dean: he’s going to know all about what you did, and…he’s going to have to pretend to be _you!_ For the reporters, anyway.”

____

And now Dean was finally turning towards his Samuel, who was holding something in his hand. “I nearly forgot. Here.” And he was slipping whatever it was into Dean’s inner jacket pocket. “I keep _my_ promises. You better keep _yours_ and get back here quick! Or I’ll come looking for _you_ instead, I mean that. I’ll find you somehow and prove to you that I’m worthy enough for you.”

____

“Samuel.” Dean sighed at him. “It’s not about your worth, it’s about not leaving you alone here. You’ll find someone else…”

____

Then he was being surprised as the younger man gripped his face tightly and pulled him in for an unexpected kiss. “You _are_ leaving me alone, Dean. Mated or not, I’m your _Alpha_. And I’m telling you… you get back _here_ to me.”

____

And the older man was biting his lip and nodding, for once unable to trust himself to speak.

____

Then the stone was glowing far more intensely than it had, as if deliberately trying to attract his attention.

____

With a sigh, Dean moved to go over to it once more. “Just keep the children back in case, Sam.” And his brother nodded at him and all but dragged the two of them further away, where he knelt with his arms around the little boy and girl, all their eyes glued in Dean’s direction.

____

But Samuel stayed where he was.“This isn’t goodbye!” he told Dean, even as the other finally picked the now brightly glowing blue stone up and turned to face him. “You and I are meant to be. Our Lady will put this right: she _will_.

____

You’ll see.”

____

 

____

              *                        *                    *                     *                      *                        *                         *       

____

 

____

Dean parked the Impala easily in the alley and immediately handed the keys to Sam. “Better not go home with _these!_ ”

____

Sam nodded, momentarily unable to speak. He glanced back at Castiel, who’s unhappy expression probably mirrored his own, and then they were both following Dean out of the car and into the building.

____

The half of the stone in Dean’s hand was now glowing so brightly that even Sam could see it, and it cast an eerie, unworldly glow around the darkness of the old warehouse. The others expected the omega to run straight down to the cellar, but instead he suddenly paused and turned to stare at them.

____

“I… _thank_ you! And… I really will _miss_ you! _Both_ of you! I… It’s been so wonderful to feel _normal!_ I almost don’t want to go back… I don’t _want_ to be treated as...an _object_ again. But I don’t suppose it will ever change… what the hell _could_ change it? It would take a _miracle!_

____

And my _children_ are there. Someone’s got to keep _them_ safe, especially my little Johnny! If I thought I could bring _him_ here, to this world…for him to be able to have a _life_ … well… I would! I really _would!_

____

But… that’s just a dream. Anyway, in case I don’t get the chance in a minute… _Thank_ you.

____

And I love you both so _much_.”

____

And he was pulling Sam down to him for one last long kiss. And then the same with Castiel. And then he was smiling, a shy smile, so unusual on Dean’s face that they both would _always_ remember it, and headed off down the steps to the cellar.

____

They hurried to follow, reaching the base of the steps just as Dean all but ran across the cellar floor, following the light of the stone to its source as the brightness reached eye-watering intensity… and then there was a momentarily tremendous flash of pure energy that seemed to fill the cellar with the bright light of pure _power_.

____

And then it was gone.

____

 

____

                    *                     *                       *                      *                       *                          *                      *

____

 

____

Sam recovered and slowly struggled to his knees. The force of whatever it was had been just as great that time, but at least he had been expecting it. Well, sort of: he had once again been knocked off his feet, and possibly knocked- _out_ as well, but… he just wished his sight would clear from all the black blobs that covered it for what seemed like a long time.

____

Finally able to look around, he could see Castiel also getting to his feet: the angel having also been thrown across the room, even _he_  having been unable to withstand the power of whatever had caused this all to happen. And he seemed to be looking at the wall on the other side from Sam. Not the wall: the floor in front of it…

____

Sam hastily followed with his own eyes where the other was staring.

____

There was a body on the ground.

____

It was dressed in the old Dean’s, _his_ Dean’s, clothes at least: the thick jacket, denims, boots. And as Sam approached on slightly shaky legs, he could see the pearl handle of his brother’s gun tucked against his back through the gap created by the jacket having fallen up the body a little as it landed.

____

But… oh God, was he breathing?

____

By this time, Sam’s knees were hitting the concreted ground beside his brother and he was desperately pulling at Dean’s shoulder. “Dean? Dean!” He felt a moment of pure panic even as Castiel had also managed to get to his side, then…

____

Dean groaned. And tried to move.

____

The wave of relief that washed over both Sam and the angel was almost physical. “Dean, it’s okay. You’re _home_. Just sit up slow… take it steady.”

____

“Hey, Sam. You… _you?_ Or…” And he was starting to try and get his knees beneath him: his left hand with something in it going instantly to his left side at the front of his body. Where blood was beginning to spread on his shirt in a large stain. “Shit, Milady: you could have made that a _bit_ more gentle for me. You’ve ripped all the stitches…”

____

And as he did, he realised that he was still holding his half of the stone. Now just a stone again: well, half a stone. Hastily he pocketed it.

____

“Oh, Christ! What’s happened? You’re bleeding! And your arm? What’s happened: who’s _hurt_ you?” Sam was now all over him, frantic at the sight of the increasing red stain, and the pink cast, and the numerous swollen bruises and cuts that he could now see covering his brother’s face and _nose_ and… well, everywhere he could see! Carefully he helped Dean to sit up where he was so he could tear away his shirt and see… tight bandages. And an increasing amount of blood oozing through them.

____

“I got stabbed.”

____

“Wha…? What? Who stabbed you? Are you alright? What _happened!?_ ”

____

“Long story. But I need stitching up again: did you bring a medical bag in?”

____

“Yes, but… even better...” Sam was now recovering from the shock…and his intense _anger_ at the state that his brother had returned from wherever it was in. Nobody hurt _his_ Dean.

____

_Nobody._

____

“Cas is here. He can heal you. Cas?”

____

“What?” And Dean was finally looking up, and breathing in. And realising that he could scent his brother, and… the angel really clearly. And Castiel actually smelt really good, but nowhere near as good as his Samuel did… and… What was that behind him? Two somethings, that were almost moving with the angel as he smiled in welcome and leant forward to touch Dean. Two _feathered_ somethings that shone as if polished, and glistened with every single colour that he could imagine, and seemed to be a physical _part_ of his friend…

____

“What the fuck?” Dean was scrabbling backwards, backing into the wall as he was trying to process what he was seeing.

____

“Dean? What the hell’s wrong?” and Sam was scrambling to his feet and hurrying to reassure him.

____

“That? Those…? What…?” But he couldn’t speak momentarily, couldn’t bring himself to say the word even. How could he be seeing the angel’s _wings?_

____

Shit: he _had_ turned into something else. Just like Samuel had told him he had.

____

But now his brother was taking charge. “First thing first, you need healing. Cas?”

____

“I’m fine.” He didn’t want the angel close to him for a moment. Not while he tried to sort out what was wrong with him…

____

“You’re being ridiculous, Dean. And you’re still bleeding. A _lot_. Here!” And to Dean’s surprise and complete horror, he was suddenly being swept right up in his brother’s arms and carried over to an old workbench to be dumped down unceremoniously, Sam’s arms remaining tight around him. “Just sit there as Cas heals you. And then we can get you home. Those monsters will never hurt you again: I promise you that, Dean! I’ll kill any Alpha that _tries_ to get through from that dimension! They’re not _welcome_ here!”

____

And Dean looked up at him as his younger brother stood with his arms still protectively around him, at the anger in his eyes, at his concern… and knew that he had been wrong about him last night.

____

But what was Sam’s response going to be when he realised Dean wasn’t human anymore?

____

Would his brother even kill him?

____

More than likely. He had been eager enough to kill Benny, after all. He _had_ killed _Emma!_ It would be ironic if he survived the last month just to come home and be killed by his own brother…

____

But now Castiel was there, leaning into him with a smile and putting his hand to Dean’s chest. It was with relief that Dean felt his arm mend back together and the pain ease, and his _nose_ , and his abdomen. And a multitude of other injuries. “Thanks, Cas.”

____

“Your scent is incredibly strong now, Dean.” The angel commented. “It’s almost like the other Dean’s. But yours is even sweeter: more spring meadow. I like it.”

____

He fell silent at the glare the other gave him. But Sam was frowning: “So what was that about just then? What were you seeing as you looked at Cas?”

____

“Nothing. Must have just been a shadow.”

____

And he was getting down from the counter and going to try and move away, but Sam’s arms were still there. Still _tight_ around him. “You okay?”

____

“I’m fine. Let’s get back.” And he was managing to pull away from his brother and immediately heading across to the steps that led out of the cellar. “Can you drive? I’m worn out: I’m just gonna crash in the back seat.”

____

Dean didn’t see the worried looks that Sam and Castiel exchanged behind him. “So, what was it like?”

____

“What?”

____

“This other world! You’ve been there for over a month: what was it like?”

____

Dean turned and looked at Sam as he remembered: he thought about being abused every time he went outside, and how it had affected even _him_ and made him nervous everywhere he went. And he thought about the other Sam, and Johnny, and little Mary-Anne. And he thought about the small folding photo-frame that the new Alpha had handed to him just moments ago, the double sided one with a copy of the now destroyed picture of the other Dean and his dad on the one side, and on the other a photo of the three children, all smiling at him through the lens.

____

And he thought about Samuel.

____

And how good he had kissed and how Dean’s body had responded.

____

And how his scent felt…lonely now. How had Samuel put it the night before? How he wouldn’t feel _complete_ without him…?

____

And how he had promised to try and get back there. Somehow.

____

“Dean? You okay?” Sam was definitely anxious as he looked at him now, and Dean realised suddenly that he was crying.

____

Hastily he blinked the tears away. “I’m fine! Let’s get out of here.”

____

But even as he started to turn away again, Sam was there beside him, catching at his arm. “Do you want to talk about it?”

____

“Nothing to talk about, Sam. Come on.”

____

“But…”

____

“I’m fine!”

____

Sam paused in irritation. Dean definitely _wasn’t_ fine, but arguing would only make him more stubborn. “You hungry? Do you fancy picking up a burger on route to the bunker?”

____

Dean couldn't contain his revulsion: “No. No burger.”

____

“You serious?”

____

“Deadly.” And he was heading off up the steps without a backward look.

____

Sam stared after him and turned to Castiel, his eyes and face full of worry. “Did he just say no _burger?_ Something is _very_ wrong, Cas. What the hell’s _happened_ to him? And that wound: from what I could see that was a vicious stab wound! And his arm! Who’s been _hurting_ him like this? He’s been there all alone, Cas! And…,” he didn’t want to say his next thoughts aloud. “I think he can see your _wings_ : that’s why he freaked out just then!”

____

“ _I_ think he can see them as well, Sam.” The angel agreed. “Wherever he has been, it has obviously been very traumatic: he seems very upset about it. And… his scent… you won’t like this, but… I think he has been turned, Sam. I think he’s an omega as well now. And I don’t think he’s _realised_ it yet….”

____

“Let’s get him home. I take it you’re coming?”

____

“Indeed… ” And they also hurried up the stairs in time to see Dean already at the door to the outside world and heading outside to the Impala without even turning to see if they were following.

____

“Sam?”

____

“Mmm?”

____

“If he _is_ an omega now… does that mean he’ll get these… _heats_ that the other Dean was so worried about?”

____

“I was wondering that, Cas… If he _does_ , he’ll probably need some help getting through them…”

____

They exchanged glances: no words needed.

____

“I’ll always be willing to assist… if he needs _help_ , Sam.”

____

“Yeeaahh, Cas. I know you will.”

____


	21. Chapter 21

Dean didn’t even bother to open his eyes for a moment.

Instead he just _breathed_ , inhaling the scents that he had missed so much. How _strong_ they all were: he had never realised that before. The poor _other_ Dean must have felt _suffocated_ by them.

But to him, they were perfect.

With a sigh he opened his eyes to see the faces of everyone that he already knew was around him. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” And Sam, _his_ Sam, was smiling at him.

He was sitting on the ground, holding Dean tightly on his lap just as he had the other Dean over a month ago. And they just had time for one quick kiss before Dean was getting mobbed by his two youngest children. “ _Mom!_ ”

And Mary-Anne and Johnny were all over him, sobbing with joy. And sadness. Real _sorrow._

Dean could _smell_ their misery. “What’s this?”

But neither of them answered him, and now he was becoming aware of something else. Something that immediately made him nervous, and shift his position in Sam’s arms ready to run and hide behind the trusted strength of his mate: the scent of an unmated Alpha in close proximity to him. Especially when _he_ was so close to coming into heat!

But the scent… it was… it… he _knew _it. “Samuel? You’ve _presented?_ ”__

“Hi, mom.” But he wasn’t happy. In fact his scent was sadder than his other two siblings. And it was flat somehow; lifeless.

Dean was out of Sam’s arms and on his feet reaching for his eldest son before he had even thought about the danger he might be in by approaching him. “What is it? Samuel? What _is_ it?”

But the young Alpha turned away from him, blinking back tears. And then Sam was also standing to put his arms around Dean from behind, pulling him back tightly against his chest with a heartfelt sigh. “The other Dean was Sammy’s soulmate. He turned, Dean. While he was here, somehow he _turned._ And because he knew he had to leave… when Samuel presented he wouldn’t accept him. He thought he was being kind: he was worried about them never being able to find each other again and Samuel being alone for the rest of his life.”

“He rejected him?” Dean was stunned. “But…the urge…the _desire_ to be with… how could he have…? And…once the soulmate is found, no one else will _ever_ do! The scent wants what it _wants._ ”

“I know.” Sam sighed. “But Dean didn’t realise. And…everything he’s been through, everything he’s _done._ It wasn’t fair to tell him.”

“We had to let him go, mom.” Johnny suddenly informed the newly returned omega with tremendous sorrow in his voice. “I’ve missed you so _much_ … _we’ve_ missed you so much. But we all loved the other Dean as well. We wanted him to stay.

And we miss him.”

Dean stared down at the upset little boy: “He must have made some impression!”

“Not just on _us_ , Dean.” Sam informed him. “At the moment, the whole _world_ knows his name… _your_ name. I’ve so much to tell you. But first… we need to think of some way of getting you a fake pink plaster cast!”

“A what?”

“He broke his arm defending us against the Alphas who broke into the house! They _destroyed_ it! And they stabbed him: they stabbed _Dee!_ ” Mary-Anne had a hint of hysteria amidst her tears. “But he wouldn’t let them take us: he _wouldn’t!_ He fought them all, mom! And then he told them all _off_ , on the cameras! He told _everyone_ what he thinks of them!”

Dean stared at her. Then he turned to stare with his eyebrows raised at Sam.

Who shrugged helplessly and chewed at his lip. “As I said, I’ve got so much to tell you. But I’ve already contacted a company to clean the house, Dean.” He hurried to try and put his mate’s mind at rest. “They’ll get the bloodstains out! And I know now… about everything. I’ll do _so_ much better in protecting you, I promise! And Dean’s given us an _incredible_ chance to change things! And I’ve missed you so _much!_

"Alphas broke into the _house?_ Into _our_ house, Sam? And the _children_ were _there?_ ”

“ _We’re_ who they were _after_ , mom! And _Dean_ of course…well they thought he was _you_. But he _stopped_ them!” Johnny stood tall as he spoke up, facing his mom with sudden pride in his voice. “ _He’s_ an omega as well now, like _I’m_ going to be. I’m going to learn to fight like him…” his face crumpled suddenly and tears welled in his eyes… “If he can find his way back and teach me.”

“He will.” Mary-Anne reassured him. “He promised he’ll try, and he _will!_ ” And she was crying as well.

Dean stood and stared at them each in turn. Then at Samuel who had his head bowed, but his mom could still see the moisture trickling down his cheeks and dripping from his chin. And the sadness in all their scents was overwhelming.

Finally he looked round at Sam with a stern expression on his face, his mate nervous about meeting his eye. “I think… you better tell me _exactly_ what’s been going on while I’ve been away. And I mean _everything._

And then…” Dean glanced down at the half of the stone that he still held in his hand, “… we can start figuring out how to put it _right._ ”

And as if it had heard him, the surface of the stone was suddenly lit by a momentary but approving flash of pale blue.


End file.
